


Fix You

by VixxDer



Series: Sherlock Holmes: Hawkeye Series [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27282982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VixxDer/pseuds/VixxDer
Summary: Sherlock Lives! Not everyone is happy with his return, and he isn't returning to a life he expects. With his best friend getting married, the love of his life estranged with John, and his daughter already moved on, Sherlock struggles to get back into their lives. [SherlockxOC]
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Sherlock Holmes/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Sherlock Holmes: Hawkeye Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1204108
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

The thundering vibrations dug into the dirt, wind hitting her face as she bit her lip counting to herself. At the end of our counting to zero, she raised her body forward against the dark chocolate braided mane. The front hooves lifted in the air as the back followed in suit, as if ready to fly. Her gloved fists tightened onto the reins as she exhaled to prepare for the impact of the landing. Flying over the large dead long, the front hooves thudded into the sand and dirt with the back legs following after.

"Good job, Osiris!" The eleven year old cheered, leaning over to pat his neck.

She pulled the reins to slow her Lusitano horse, walking over to the fence. The sun shining through the cold clouds made the buckskin coat shine like gold, a chilly breeze made the girl shudder. Her riding apparel wasn't the best for the coming winter weather to arrive in a few months.

Charlie grinned standing at the fence as she approached him. His speed is going great." She removed her hair letting the long dark hair fall down her back. "You sure you rather jump than race?"

Dally grinned at him, scratching Osiris' neck. "I don't think he can decide himself. He wants to get going but loves jumping so much."

Charlie shrugged in his thick coat. "He's still young, he'll figure it out." He reached out gently petting his snout. "It's up to you to lead him."

Dally nodded, pulling the reins to go another round.

Charlie watched her bring up speed on Osiris as he felt someone take his hat off his head. He glared at the taller older teen who gave a cheeky grin and stood on the fence post. "Watching your girlfriend trot around in circles, short stuff?"

Charlie's cousin, Michael cackled as he started bending the rim of Charlie's hat. He was much taller and about a year older than his twelve year old cousin. It made him think he could run the place over his cousin and his little girlfriend. Being the biggest, oldest, and -in his mind- the smartest. His bright blue eyes and blond hair making him stand out.

"She's teaching Osiris how to jump." He told Michael.

The teen frowned, then laughed. Charlie gave glare, snatching his hat back and placing it on his gingered head. "You think she can't do it?"

He snorted, leaning back on the fence with his hands gripping the wood. "That, and she named the horse a dumb name." He shrugged and bounced off the fence. "But, her name is stupid too. They match well together."

Michael reached over, flipping Charlie's hat off making it fall into the jumping area. Charlie grumbled and glared back at his cousin who laughed his way back to the horse stables.

"Just ignore him, Charlie." He turned seeing an unfazed Dally trotting about. She must have heard it all but didn't find it worth to respond.

"Easy for you." He retorted, Dally climbed off and picked up his hat handing it to him. "He's not staying at your place."

Dally shrugged, climbing up and hanging off the wood. She smiled, making Charlie's heart pound his chest. "True, but he'll be heading back home in a few weeks, right?"

He nodded, "Yeah. He was here for the Summer, and somehow stuck around longer." Charlie grumbled getting off the fence as he placed his hat back on.

Dally climbed off as Charlie opened the gate for her to lead Osiris out of the pen. It was time to take him back to the stables. "The holidays are coming up, aren't you going to his place?"

"Canada? Yeah." Charlie hung his head with a sigh. "Every year my mom's side of the family usually come here. But with my Grandfather sick, it was decided we go to Calgary until he gets better."

Dally nodded, with no grandparents that she knew, it was unknown what that feeling was like. She was sure her father had living parents, but she nor Uncle Mycroft ever mentioned them. Her mother had a living mother, but they were estranged. Her last Christmas was spent with Henry at home. Uncle Curtis and his girlfriend came to visit. She was to visit Uncle Mycroft but a winter storm kept them stuck in Dartmoor.

"What will you be doing for the holidays?" Charlie asked, knowing the family complications in her life.

Dally shrugged, "Mum hasn't mentioned it. It was really crazy last year." she chuckled at the memory.

They placed Osiris into his stable, after checking how clean it was. Dally locked the gate and fed him some cookies she kept in her pockets. "Great job, boy." She rubbed his snout as he ate, snickering contently.

"You two really connected fast." Charlies commented, Dally giggled at the praising tone he held. Her cheeks warmed as she dried her hands of any residue from feeding.

"He came from a pretty bad life, we thought he'd never ride again." He said, the echoed clicking of his hooves as Osiris walked over to eat his hay.

Dally remembered that day; Not even a month after moving, this beautiful golden horse came into the ranch. It's dark chocolate main, tail and legs captured her sight as she was still learning to ride on the ponies. Despite told the horse had to adjust to a new home from an abused one, she couldn't stop herself from sneaking visits. Feeding him cookies and apples, despite claimed to be too dangerous from his PTSD.

He was alone, and would kick and cry when left alone, but that's what the trainers said to do. Dally grinned when she thought of sneaking him out of his stable. He near rode off with her leading to a broken leg, but once she was hurt he stopped running. Dally believes to this day he felt bad for hurting her. He lowered his head, nickering at her and soon the screaming of her and the horse caught attention. Despite the pain, bed rest, and scolding by her mother, Dally would do it again.

From then on, Osiris calmed and only around Dally or the trainers, including Charlie. Over time she trained with her and starting jumping this past Summer.

"He just needed someone who understood him." Dally said, clicking her tongue.

Osiris gladly came over, nuzzling his nose against her cheek and hair. She giggled at the tickling feeling and kissed the snout of Osiris. Charlie smiled at the sight of his friend.

* * *

"Really, Helena. Why worry about me this holiday?" Henry asked, as he drove with her to pick Dally up. He had just picked her up at work at the Cross Keys, and he felt the need to have this conversation.

She sat in the passenger seat, fixing her chin length auburn hair. It was a bit of a mess, as she tried to pin the thick mass of her bangs out of her face to the left of her face. She placed her glasses on, having to take them off to fix her hair.

"I don't want you to be all alone, Henry." She told, giving him a side smile.

Henry shrugged, hands loosely on the wheel. "I'm used to that, Helena. What about your family and friends in London?"

"You can always come with us." Helena offered, hands in her lap of her black slacks, feeling relaxed her shift was over. Her maroon long sleeve and black vest over it, she usually worked as a waitress and helped any guest staying.

When Helena first took the job, some guests knew her as the homeless thief that aided Sherlock Holmes. They asked questions such as if Sherlock was a real detective and what it was like working with him. A few had the gall to ask if he was pretty good in bed, Helena was baffled but handled them well with a boot to the door. As time went on, the questions stopped and she was just referred to as Helena the waitress. She caught onto the job fast and enjoyed it very much. At times she missed the hustle and bustle of London when times were slow at Cross Keys. But it gave her time to enjoy the clear air and open range of the countryside.

The new country girl was happy to see Dally adjust well into her new life. She easily took to horse riding, and was extremely proud to see her advance so fast. She was already eleven- Eleven years old! Soon she'd be a teenager before she knew it!

Time flew so much, Helena leaned her head back with a sigh and closed her eyes. It had been about two years since his death. The thought of him still made her heart ache and the urge to cry. But, she kept strong for her and Dally.

Moving here was a wonder of a treatment for her pain- and Dally's. She was so much happier, had friends again, especially that Charlie fellow. They enjoyed riding horses together, and she introduced him to mystery novels. Dally would nitpick the plots and murders, just like her father did. If anyone didn't know it, one wouldn't even think Dally Holmes was his adopted daughter.

"Helena?"

She was so deep into her thoughts she hadn't noticed they've sat there in the ranch's dirt lot for a few minutes. She blinked and adjusted her glasses, glancing to Henry. He was standing outside the car, awaiting her as he stuck his head through the window.

"Coming?"

She nodded and unbuckled herself, climbing out of the car. She wrapped her coat tightly around her and walked with Henry at her side. He guided her to the stables. Not that she wouldn't know, but over the past two years Helena's eyesight had gotten worse. She was still able to see as she wished, but had to turn her head with the corners of her sight faded. This occurred around last New Years, a shock to wake up to. Helena thought she was hung over, but found her sight hadn't changed and new it was fading from then on.

Helena was in need to get her eyes examined. Which meant she had to take a trip to London to visit her doctor.

"Hey, Dally!" Helena greeted, seeing her talking with Charlie at Osiris' stable.

"Mum!" She beamed, running over and hugging Helena tightly.

* * *

Somewhere in the dead of night Serbia, a session was being held to torture a man. His long dark stringy hair fell over his face.. They beat him, cut him, whipped him, but no answer would come from their victim. Arms stretched out, his was chained as if ready to be crucified like Jesus himself. Despite the sweat and blood that stained his bare back and chest, he resisted to speak an utter word to his interrogators.

The man actually doing the work demanded for answers in his thick Serbian language. It wasn't as if the tortured man couldn't understand, he knew every word they yelled and hissed into his ears. The man would just rather refuse to answer and take the brutal beatings.

The rough Serbian demands why he broke into their territory, captured in the thick woods in the country. Mumbling was heard, making the interrogator stomp over. He gripped his thick dark locks and ducked his head to hear the whispers.

He proved to speak the language, informing the man not the answer he was looking for. The other man in the room, sitting quietly demanded in the same language to know what he's saying. The interrogator says the man mentioned the electric in his bathroom wasn't working, but most of all his wife is having an affair with his next-door neighbor. The scraggly haired man speaks again, adding an additional amount of this personal fact. If he leaves now, he can catch them at his home.

Like fish to a worm, the interrogator took the bait and rushed out of the room. With ease steps the quiet man stood and approached the chained man. He grabbed his hair and bent down, and in perfect posh English whispered to the man.

"There's an underground terrorist network active in London and a massive attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over." In sheep's wool to fool the Serbians, Mycroft Holmes stood and grinned.

"Brother dear, back to Baker street. Sherlock Holmes."

Said detective smirked, awaiting to hear when it'd be ready for him to return home. For Sherlock Holmes lives.


	2. Chapter 2

"Osiris has really improved since we started him on jumping." Dally told, sitting at the kitchen table with Henry and Helena.

Dally picked Taiwanese food, so they got ingredients and her and Helena recreated some beef noodle soup. Dally's hair was wet and in a ponytail after getting a shower a few minutes ago. Dressed in a shirt and dark sweatpants ready to relax before bed.

"Any jumping competitions we should be prepared to attend?" Henry asked her.

Dally waved her fork at him. "I won't be doing anything cool like that for a while. Charlie said he can't do any races until he's old enough."

Helena swallowed, "Yeah, but you can enter next year's jumping competition." she encouraged.

Dally shrugged, feeling sheepish. "I've only been riding for a year. I should wait a little longer before I-"

"Jump into things?" Henry joked, earning a groan from the girls.

"Jesus, Henry. That was bad." Helena chuckled, flicking garnish at him. Henry chuckled as Dally giggled at the them.

Helena sipped her water, humming as she remembered something. "I'll be heading into London tomorrow."

Dally's head shot up, but she didn't say anything with her mouth full. Henry glanced to her then to Helena. "Doctor's appointment?"

She nodded, "I should be seen more often. But, my doctor is in London and refuses to to a doctor's call so far out." Helena explained with slight humor in her words.

"Why don't you transfer for different doctor?" Dally asked, taking some beef and chewing on it.

Helena shrugged. "It's hard to do so. I don't want to bother Mycroft more than I already do." She stirred some of the broth in her bowl and gave Dally a curious look. "Want to come with me? Can visit Mycroft while I get checked out."

Dally shook her head, taking her glass of lemonade. "I've got to keep up with my piano lessons this week." She told. "Plus a lot of essays my tutor set me up with."

Helena put her utensil down and leaned onto the table with her elbows. "You sure? I was thinking of visiting Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Lestrade-"

"No, I'm too busy." She quickly declined. Dally picked up her bowl and cleaned it out in the sink. "But, give them my regards, mum." She told, sipping her lemonade and heading upstairs to her room, the furry cat Maggie following after.

Helena sighed, leaning her chin into her palm. Henry looked to her, "I had a feeling she wouldn't want to go." he told her.

"I'm not going to push her." Helena stood, taking her bowl and glass to wash out in the sink. "I did give her this new life, why should I expect her to take a step back into her old life?"

Henry stood, helping her with the dishes as he opened the dishwasher. "Dally took to the country like she lived here before. Wouldn't even guess she was a city kid."

Helena turned her head to give him a look. "That's because she's trying to forget about her life in the city."

He nodded, understanding what she meant. Most of Dally's life was in an orphanage, she hadn't even spent a whole year with her father before his death. Then spent two years with Helena as her mom and her life over here.

"I think she's scared I want her to move back to London." Helena told, rinsing bowls and pans before handing them to Henry who placed them into the racks.

Henry frowned, "I wouldn't say that." he told. "I think your just thinking too much."

She raised a brow at him, but nodded. "I'll just set my alarm and head to the first train out tomorrow morning." Helena handed him the utensils and got a dish towel off the faucet to dry her hands.

"Quick trip?" He asked, closing the dishwasher and setting the time on the large appliance.

Helena turned, leaning back on the counter. "I called my doctor, he can take me in the next two days."

"Why not leave then?" He asked.

She placed the towel onto the facet to dry and crossed her arms. "I want to just see the old gang, Molly got excited and planned a lunch time for us. Girls day out, she said." She quirked her lips into a grin. "Never had that before."

Henry smiled, patting her arm. "You deserve to see your friends. You've done nothing but work and cook, clean and take care of Dally. Never give yourself time to relax."

She didn't like to relax, that's how Helena was. Before Sherlock, she wasn't one to relax. She honestly missed the adrenaline rush of city life, the feel of the chase- Be it after a criminal or the days when Lestrade chased her. She grinned the memory, looking up at Henry.

"I take my motherly duty seriously." She told, earning a chuckle from her friend. Helena gave a soft pat to his arm. "I'm gonna go pack and head to bed."

Henry nodded, watching her head upstairs to her room. Helena entered her room and shut the door, heaving a sigh. Where did she keep her suitcase?

Helena checked under bed and dressers, finally finding it in her closet. Her room was spacious, and had been decorated to her taste over her two years here. The large queen sized bed with red and gold bed sheets set sat against the wall to the right of the room. The walls were cream white, but with light brown carpet. The curtains held the same colors as her bed set but with intricate swirling details that reminded her of the walls back at the flat. Unlike Dally's room that was near covered in horse posters and concert events, Helena's walls were a tad bare. The only things framed and hung were photos taken of her small family or portraits of London. The painting of the London Eye with its dark night sky and bright red lights hung above her bed. She loved staring at it when late at night. The Shard tower was another portrait hung above her dresser, reminding her of the last building she scaled before her meeting Sherlock.

Going through her clothing, she knew the city would be freezing this time of year. Helena collected many jumpers, jeans, and long sleeves to pack. She neatly folded them, along with her pack of travel toiletries she'd need- shampoo, conditioner, soap, toothpaste, ect.

Going back in, she paused at the sight of two items in her closet. She smiled sadly at the lovely silk robe she wore every night before bed. Helena had the first habit of sleeping with it on. She worried about ruining the material, and got herself to wear it less in bed and more when she stayed at home. Because of her constant inability to relax, she wore it less and less to never taking it out. Helena decided to bring it, since she was sure to be spending her nights at the hotel she'd be staying at.

After packing it, her eyes sat on the distinct blue scarf hanging in the closet. She felt her chest hurt, approaching the scarf and letting her fingers skim the material. It was as if Sherlock held her when she wore it. Despite the ends frying and color fading, she refused to ever throw it away or replace it.

Helena took it off its hanger, rubbing her fingers against the thin soft material, and sat on her bed. Her lips tugged to her sad smile, her eyes glassy wanting to release its tears. He wore this scarf everywhere, to every crime scene and every investigation. She remembered Sherlock using this to help her broken arm that one time, using it as a sling. The many times he knotted it around his neck, then whip it off like it was in his constant way. She raised the fabric up against her cheek, the smell of his scent had died down long ago but she remembered it distinctly. His musk was a mix of tobacco, leather, and somehow the chemicals he worked with blended into him as if he was wearing a flower everyday. Helena swore he wore some sort of cologne to hide the chemical and tobacco scent, a hint of rose wood and caramel peeked her memory of him.

She returned to reality feeling her tears trailing down her cheeks. Helena wiped her eyes and placed the scarf on the bedside. She sighed, closing her suitcase and placing it by the door. Tomorrow she'd return to her home city, London.

* * *

"You have been busy, haven't you?" Mycroft hummed as he awaited at his desk while his dear little brother was getting a shave.

Sherlock got himself cleaned up, a haircut and all was left was to shave what little facial hair he had grown. Holding the newspaper he was reading, he put it down and let the barber finish. "Moriarty's network. Took me two years to dismantle it."

Mycroft looked up from looking at the files of the work he handled in Serbia. "And you're confident you have?" He asked.

"The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle." He informed.

"Yes." Mycroft gave a snide grin. "You got yourself deep there with Baron Maupertuis." Sherlock resisted to grin himself so he wouldn't get cut by the barber's blade. "Quite a scheme."

"Colossal." Sherlock added.

"Anyway-" Mycroft folded the paper and tossed it onto his desk. "You're safe now." Sherlock gave a careless hum, though Mycroft felt underappreciated. "A small 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss." He commented.

"What for?" Sherlock asked, knowing he was going to play the 'big brother card on him.

"For wading in." Mycroft answered. "In case you've forgotten, field work is not my natural milieu."

Sherlock held a hand up to stop the barber, with a groan as his body was still sore from the torture he glared his older brother. "Wading in? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp."

Mycroft frowned at the sudden accusation he was given. "I got you out."

"No, I got me out." He corrected. Why didn't you intervene sooner?"

"I couldn't risk giving myself away, could I?" He retorted, as if the answer was obvious enough for Sherlock to understand. "It would have ruined everything."

Despite the logic in his answer, Sherlock got defensive and couldn't trust his word. His head tilted, as if unhinging the truth. "You were enjoying it."

"Nonsense." Mycroft dismissed.

" _Definitely_ enjoying it." Sherlock repeated.

Mycroft adjusted in his chair, folding his hands on the desk and leaning over at his brother. "Listen, do you have any idea what it was like, Sherlock, going _undercover_?" He spat the word with contempt. "Smuggling my way into their ranks like that? The noise, the people!"

Sherlock sighed, leaning back with a small shake of his head. Had to make it about him, typical Mycroft. He sighed, wishing the soreness to ease off already. "I didn't know you spoke Serbian." He admitted, allowing the barber to finish.

"I didn't." Mycroft told, relaxing in his seat once the tension eased between the two. "But the language has a Slavic root. Frequent Turkish and German loan words." He shrugged. "Took me a couple of hours."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows unable to shrug. "You're slipping." He commented.

Mycroft gave a false smile, did he miss his little brother pointing out his mistakes? Possibly. "Middle-age, brother mine. Comes to us all."

The door clicked heavily, Sherlock glanced up seeing Mycroft's new blonde assistant with his fresh new suit.

* * *

"I'll call when I arrive." Helena told, leaning down to kiss Dally's head. She smiled up at her mother as she patted her cheek. "Shall I bring back Mrs. Hudson's biscuits?"

Dally beamed, jumping on the balls of her heels. "Oh, I miss them so much!"

Henry patted Dally's shoulder, smiling at her. One arriving or leaving the station would think this was a mother off leaving her husband and child. It looked normal to anyone's view as they passed in and out of the station.

"Don't forget to give Mrs. Hudson the photo." Dally reminded, swinging her hands behind her back.

Helena nodded, patting her inner coat pocket. "Got it right here, safe and sound." She smiled to Henry and gave him a hug. "Make sure she does her homework." She told him.

Henry chuckled pulling away as Dally gave a look beside him. "To think we had a party ready." He joked, earning a giggle from the girls.

Helena picked up her suitcase and tightened her blue faded scarf around her neck. They walked with her to the train as she climbed on. The train soon started to move, Helena walked down the corridor and found an empty car. She placed her bag above the head rack, then opened the window to stick her head out and wave to the two. They waved back, the train gaining speed to head back to London.

Helena sat down and checked her wrist watch seeing it was near 10 that morning. She'd arrive at Paddington Station around late noon. She heaved a long sigh and leaned back, looking out the window. Soon the rolling green hills will turn to tall glass buildings. Thankfully she took a sick pill before getting to the station, still unable to handle train rides. Helena should really invent in a license and car, she would rather just drive all the way to London than the train. Sure, it would be longer but she wouldn't have to pop these damn pills every time.

Feeling her glasses were dirty, Helena removed them and took her cleaning cloth from her pocket and rubbed the lenses clean. She placed them down on the table of the car room, looking across from her at the center of the seat. Her sight had gone a little blurry and she needed the glasses to see things clearly. Her eyes shifted to her right corner where the dark fade could be seen. The first sign of her sight leaving her. How long until the opposite side of her eyes would be the same. Soon, it around evolve to tunnel vision, and eventually leading to nothing but a black void all her life.

Helena had accepted this fate, she wanted to do all that she could while she had her eyesight. Watch Dally play the piano every chance she had, soon relying on listening to her beautiful playing. Cooking meals and delicious dishes, until she'll eventually not know which cabinet is the mug or bowl cabinet. Viewing the gorgeous sights of the countryside, it's green hills in the summer and pure white snowy fields in the winter. For all she knew, this could be her seeing London for the final time before the black darkness takes hold of her sight.

* * *

Sherlock dressed into his usual suit that he almost forgot what it was like to wear it. It was as if he lost his second skin. The black trousers with the belt tightly around his slim waist as he tucked his pure white dress shirt into them. He got his hair just as he liked it, puffy and curled with a part on the left. His black dress shoes fitted his feet well with the warm dark soaks after running through the woods barefoot. Sherlock was entirely focused on his appearance as he looked at himself in the mirror. Something that had annoyed his brother.

"I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock, is that quiet clear?" He questioned, trying to get him to understand the threat in London.

"What do you think of this shirt?" His brother questioned, acting as if he heard nothing of Mycroft's explanation.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft spun back from pacing the room, clearly stressed.

"I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft." He assured, giving him a look for his impatience as he tucked his shirt in. "Just put me back in London."

Sherlock reached for his black blazer. "I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in. Feel every quiver of its beating heart." Never would he think he'd miss London so much that be gone for two years- including the people in it.

Mycroft's assistant seem to understand his stress over Sherlock's aloofness. "One of our men died getting this information." The brother's glanced to her at this information. "All the chatter, all the traffic concurs, there's going to be a terrorist strike on London- A big one."

"And what about John Watson?" Sherlock asked, slipping his blazer on and fixing the lapels.

The assistant glanced to Mycroft who frowned at the question. "John?"

"Have you seen him?" Sherlock gave a short glance, expecting to hear what he's been up to for the past two years.

"Oh yes." Mycroft shifted, his sarcastic tone easing in. "We meet up every Friday for fish and chips with Helena."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, not needing it. Mycroft motioned for his assistant to had a folder of whatever information he had to John- to an extent. "I've kept a weather eye on him, of course. We haven't been in touch at all to…" He shrugged. "Prepare him."

Sherlock looked through the folder, little photos of him was shown including little information. Nothing too drastic, unless you count a recent photo of him growing a mustache. Sherlock frowned at it, he didn't like it.

"No- Well, we'll have to get rid of that."

"We?" Mycroft questioned.

"He looks ancient." Sherlock commented, closing the folder. "I can't be seen to be wandering around with an old man."

Mycroft chuckled with a cheeky grin. "Yet you walked with the Tramp?"

Sherlock dropped the folder onto his brother's desk with a slap. He turned on his heel, fixing his cuffs. "Speaking of, how is my dear Hawk and daughter?"

"If only we knew, she's barely in contact and my informant only gives me updated when he thinks is important." Mycroft told.

Sherlock tilted his head, side glancing his brother. "He wasn't really one for the job, in my opinion." He stepped back in front of the mirror, checking his attire and buttoning his blazer.

"I think I'll surprise them. They'd be delighted." Sherlock thought out loud, mostly concerned to visit them than deal with Mycroft's problem.

Said older Holmes folded his arms, amused by his brother's assumption. "You think so?"

Sherlock nodded, "Hm, pop into Baker Street. Who knows, jump out of a cake!" He told, raising his arms in half excitement.

"Baker Street?" Mycroft frowned at that, how little Sherlock knew. "He isn't there any more, and you know Dally and Helena aren't even in London."

Sherlock gave his brother a look, John not at Baker Street? Sure, he knew Helena and Dally moved to the country, but wasn't that temporary?

"Why would he be? It's been two years." Mycroft reminded him. "He's got on with his life. As did Helena and Dally."

Sherlock's brows knotted at the notion. "What life? I've been away."

Oh, poor Sherlock actually thinking he revolved around them. Did his brother really think life had been put on the pause button since he left? Apparently so, Sherlock was always so stubborn when it came to people.

"Where's he going to be tonight?" Sherlock asked, moving away from the mirror.

"How would I know?" Mycroft asked innocently.

Sherlock raised a brow. "You always know."

Mycroft sighed, dropping his arms to his side. "He has a dinner reservation in the Marylebone Road. Nice little spot." He commented, Sherlock's mind went straight to why he would be going there. "They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion, though I prefer the 2001."

"And Helena?" He asked, tilting his head back.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "My informant as told me she's on a train to London as we speak. She'll be staying at Two Tower Hotel on St Katherine's Way. She'll be taking the standard double room, arrival is around 3 with a few delays."

"Ah, its like she knows." He mused, shifting his footing. He really wanted to see her, see Dally, see John- everyone. Never would Sherlock think he'd actually miss people, but he did.

"Her visit isn't a happy one, Sherlock." Mycroft informed, but cleared his once when that look was given.

Sherlock felt his doubt start to bit him. But like an annoying gnat, he wiped it away as he brought his hand up to rub his upper lip. "I think maybe I'll just drop by, before visiting John." He told, trying to keep the chip off his shoulder.

The older brother just wished Sherlock would understand. "You know, it is just possible that you won't be welcome."

Sherlock's features scrunched up, as if the notion was impossible. "No, it isn't. Now, where is it?"

"Where is what?" Mycroft question, keeping up this 'playing ignorant' was growing on Sherlock's nerves.

"You know what."

The clicks of heels entered the room, the men turned to find Mycroft's assistant holding his beloved coat. Sherlock's lips quirked as he allowed her to slip the heavy wool coat on him. Looking into the mirror once more, he finally felt like himself again.

"Welcome back, Mr. Holmes."

He exhaled with gratitude. "Thank you." He turned to Mycroft, giving his final word. "Blud." Before taking his leave to return to his beloved city and loved ones- So he thinks.

* * *

The sudden sounds of whistles and bells awoke Helena from her tender sleep. She must have dozed off halfway through the ride, reaching for her glasses on the table. Placing them on the bridge of her nose, she stood seeing Paddington Station out the window.

Excitement and dread all filled her belly, she hoped it was just the sick pill wearing off her. She got her suitcase and made her way off the train. Her eyes took in all of the station as she left, feeling the dense city air of London. The cloud bustling, the cars and cyclist strolling by in the streets with people walking by engrossed in their phones or to where they were heading to. Helena's eyes reached the sky, her dark eyes taking in the cloudy sky and tall buildings with a big smile stretching her lips.

"Helena!" She blinked, looking around hearing someone call her name. "Hey!" She felt a impact to her side, making her stumble and drop her suitcase. Finding her attacker, made her eyes go wide at the sight of Molly hugging her.

"Oh God, Molly!" She let her defense and sense of danger fade turning to properly hug her girl friend.

The excited mousy like girl jumped up and down, holding her hands as she beamed at Helena. It was like two high school girls meeting after a long Summer break. They ignored the passing looks, not letting their glances ruin their reunion.

"I was starting to think you would be arriving tomorrow." Molly told, fixing her knitted coat. The amount of clothing made her look wider- as if pregnant. Helena guessed she might have put on a few pounds is all.

"What time is it?' She checked her wrist watch, shocked by the time. "Near 3 o'clock!?"

"Was the train delayed?" Molly asked, as Helena reached for her suitcase.

"I fell asleep, so I wouldn't know. Maybe." She fixed her hair, though it always seemed to look like she never ran a brush through the reddish hair.

Molly seemed to have taken noticed the short length. She looked her up and down, as if trying to find anything else different to her friend. "You look great, wish I could say the same." she sheepishly joked.

Helena waved her off, turning to walk and talk to call a cab. "You are beaming, Molly! What are you talking about?"

Molly gently shoved her shoulder as a cab drove up. "Still up for a late lunch?" She asked.

Helena opened the door, nodding eagerly. "Sure, just need to drop my suitcase off and we can eat until I faint."

* * *

"Oh wow, look at her!" Molly gushed over watching the videos on Helena's phone of Dally riding her horse, Osiris. "She's grown so much!"

"She's eleven now, twelve next Spring." Helena told, going back into the gallery of her phone and showing pictures of her and Dally during her birthday that past Spring.

The two were at a local cafe in the city, enjoying some pastries. Helena wanted something sweet, so she got herself a cup of tea with a crescent, while Molly ordered coffee with a muffin. The two were now catching up on what has occurred in the past two years. Molly's job was the same, taking apart brains and organs day in and out. She kept in touch with Lestrade and Anderson.

"She'll be entering the dreaded teen years soon." Molly chuckled, Helena nodded with her brows up.

"Don't remind me, I'm still anxious for when she has her period. I bought at least 10 packs of tampons prepared." She laughed, earning a look from a man across the room to discuss such things in public. With the man in her blind spot, she didn't even notice it.

"How's Lestrade doing?" Helena asked, sipping her tea.

"The usual, working hard. Keeps in touch with Anderson, though probably not for long." She chuckled with a grimace look.

Helena rose a brow with curiosity. "Why's that?"

Molly looked up that look she used to give Sherlock when he said something offensive to caught her off guard. "...Oh, well um-"

"Molly, whatever it is. I wouldn't be too shocked." She said, "Is he doing some weirdo job or something?" Helena inquired.

Molly tapped her fingers on the table, regretting to mentioning him. "Well," She started, skimming her tongue along her dry lips. "He's started this club, called 'The Empty Hearse'." Helena face slowly started to contort from amusement to confusion. "He with others, try to theorize how Sherlock-"

"Don't." Helena hissed, raising a palm up and glaring down at the table. "Don't finish that sentence."

Molly had no need to, Helena was smart and knew what Anderson had been up to. His obsession and guilt over Sherlock's death made the man start to come up with ideas and theories on how he faked his death and is still alive.

Molly felt their fun slowly drain as the tense air grew thick in the cafe. She looked around, hearing Helena breath to calm herself down. She shouldn't have said anything, Helena was having fun and laughing until now.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, no." She shook her head, dropping her hand to the table ignoring the contact of her palm smacking the surface sting. "Anderson is a real prick." She grumbled, leaning back and combing her fingers through her hair.

Molly didn't want the death of the man Helena loved haunt her during her visit here. She was here to get herself checked out, visit old friends, then return home to her life. Not be reminded of it or have someone make wild stupid theories on how he faked his death. Molly stared down at the cloth, if only she really did know the truth.

Helena dropped her hands and leaned onto the table. She ate what remained of her crescent and gulped down her tea. "Want to go drinking tonight?"

Molly gave a guilty smile, "Sorry, not tonight. I have a late shift at the hospital." she told.

Helena nodded, shrugging. "Worth a shot." She chuckled.

"Are you going to visit Mrs. Hudson tomorrow?" Molly asked.

"Yeah, I'm unsure of it though." She admitted, "I don't want to pull Mrs. Hudson out of her flat but…"

She sighed and tried to distract herself, looking around the place. Molly noticed how Helena looked around herself, turning her head and back more toward her right side than her left. With her doctor appointment, Molly was concerned how far her sight condition had gotten.

"How are your eyes?" Molly asked, needing to know her friend's condition.

Helena glanced up, giving an airy chuckle. "Losing my right side." She said, pointing a lazy finger to the right side of her face. "Thicker blind spot than my left, good thing I don't drive." She joked, trying to make light of it."

"Are you going to see John?" Molly sipped her coffee before adding. "He's going to be examining you, right?"

Helena felt her day not going well. Molly had the tendency to ask a lot of questions and almost forget how the situation can be awkward or tense. She couldn't help but grin, reminded her of Sherlock.

"I honestly haven't talked to John since we left." Helena rubbed her thumb against the rim of her empty glass. "He hasn't tried to get into contact, he wanted to push us out of his life." She shrugged. "It's what he wanted."

Molly shook her head. "I don't think so, he wanted to keep in touch."

Helena scoffed. "Oh, really?"

Molly nodded, only to earn an eye roll from her friend. Feeling their time ending, Molly checked her watch and stood. "I got to get ready for work." She paid for the meal, as a treat for Helena who stood as well. "Want me to ride with you to the hotel?"

Helena shook her head, wrapping her precious scarf around her pale neck. "I think I'm gonna walk to the hotel. Take in the city."

"You sure?" Molly asked, worried about her wandering London with a blind spot.

"I'll be fine." Helena assured with a grin, the two exiting the building. "I lived on these streets, still have the map of London in here." She told, tapping her temple with confidence.

Molly seems hesitant, but nodded. The two hugged once more, bidding their goodbyes as Molly got a cab rushing to get ready for her shift. Helena heaved a long sigh, turning to take her long strides back to the hotel. She pulled the thin blue scarf over her chin as the cold had increased the growing evening of London.

* * *

That night, was a big night for John Watson. It was the moment he would be purpose to the girl in his life, Mary Morstan. He sat at a table, nervous and fidgety waiting for her to return from the loo. Dinner was great and he was fine until he felt the butterflies in his stomach rising to, as some say, pop the question tonight. He had drank all his red wine to ease his nerves, looking over the wine list. Having some proper wine was right to ask yeah? Yeah, he thought so.

Little did the doctor know he was going to get a surprise that night too. Slowly maneuvering through the restaurant, Sherlock Holmes built up a small little funny disguise to hide himself, but enough to his reveal to be obvious. Just a simple set of glasses, a clip on bow tie, and a smudge of eyeliner to create a funny looking mustache above his lip to finish it off. He also took the liberty to take a menu to blend in with the service staff, not one single person took notice.

He still got it.

"Can I help you with anything, sir?" He asked his mustached friend, giving a higher pitch and false accent that would possibly offend any Frenchman.

"Hi, yeah." John barely looked up, glad to have some service help him. "I'm looking for a bottle of champagne, a good one."

Sherlock hummed, unable to wipe the grin off his face. "Well, these are all excellent vintages, sir."

John sighed, "Oh, it's not really my area," he admitted. "What do you suggest?"

"Well, you cannot possibly go wrong, but if you'd like my personal recommendation." John nodded, still eyeing up the list in his hand.

Sherlock pointed at the bottom of the list, he didn't care what it was but it also didn't matter for his grand reveal. "This last one on the list is a favorite of mine." He stood straight, swinging and shifting his stance in eagerness. "Is it, you might in fact say, like a face from the past."

Sherlock lowered her tone and removed his glasses, expecting his friend to give the simple glance up. Though he just nodded and reached for his remainder of red wine. "Great. I'll have that one please."

Sherlock waited, but John never looked up. "It is familiar," he urged on. "But with the quality of surprise!" He extended his arms out, as if he has just shown a magic trick of making himself reappear.

"Well, surprise me." John told, handing the list to him.

"I'm certainly endeavoring to, sir." Sherlock grumbled and marched off to plan out his second attempt.

Replacing the glasses and ignoring the lenses that was slightly off putting to his perfect 20/20 vision, Sherlock went in search of wines and champagne. Okay, his next attempt. Bring over the champagne he randomly selected, now checking over the wine list to see what it was. Eh, not a bad selection for a random pick, Sherlock thought. He'd bring it over, act like some pestering waiter, then reveal himself once again. Surprise!

Success this time, of course. Once Sherlock had collected the bottle, he maneuvered back to John's table. He wasn't alone in his return, a short blonde haired woman dressed in a purple night outing attired sat across from him. Though, Sherlock completely ignored the woman, he had the tendency to fail with women so she was probably another useless date. Sherlock didn't even deduce and made a beeline straight for John, interrupting his conversation.

"Sir, you'll find this vintage exceptionally to your liking." He told eagerly and showing the big green bottle to him. "It has all the qualities of the old, with the color of the new."

John was a bit stunned that the man had actually rushed back with the champagne, he has forgotten all about it. His main focus was Mary sitting before him- not the bloody alcohol. This was not the time, he was about to get to the point!

"No, sorry, not now please." He told, trying to politely shoo the waiter away. Mary bit her pinky and grinned, finding the nosy waiter amusing as he pushed the drink for John to accept.

"Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers, suddenly one is aware of staring into the face of an old friend." Sherlock had nearly rushed his opening as he removed the glasses once more, in hopes he'd finally look at him.

John shook his head, "No, look, seriously, could you just…" finally his gaze was met with the waiter- Sherlock Holmes.

He near jolts in his seat, fearful he's seeing a ghost or a hallucination bear him. His best friend, flat mate, and detective was standing before him- Alive.

"Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends discretion to friends and anonymity to waiters." he told, slightly grinning to ease the mood.

John looked to Mary, she was seeing this too, right? She looked between him and Sherlock proving he wasn't going crazy. With a duck of his head, John stood near stumbling from the table. Sherlock stood rigid, prepared for what John's reaction might be to seeing the dead standing before him. He took even breaths, staring wide eyed at Sherlock still taking him in.

"John, what is it?" Mary asked, concerned for his sudden reaction. "What?"

"Well, the short version, not dead." Sherlock told, assuring him he was indeed alive. Those words, he heard John's wish for him to not be dead when he visited his grave stone. Wish come true!

John's tense gaze grew unnerving for the detective. If he knew John right, his mind was processing, and doing it for too long and too hard. The words of his brother started to return to his mind, not everyone would welcome him back as if he was gone for a few days or weeks. He was dead for two years, after all!

"Bit mean springing it on you like that, I know.' Sherlock muttered, finding it hard to keep with John's gaze slowly turning into a glare. "Could've given you a heart attack- probably still will. But in my defense, it was very funny." He joked, though no crack was made on John's features.

"Okay, it's not a great defense." He added.

Finally Mary caught up, shocked by who was standing before them. "Oh, no, you're-"

"Oh, yes." Sherlock quickly confirmed.

"Oh, my God!"

"Not quite."

"You died, you jumped off a roof." Mary told, as if trying to convince herself he wasn't there.

"No." Sherlock denied.

"You're dead." She shuddered.

"No, I'm quite sure, I checked- Excuse me." He took an unused table napkin and dipped it into her wine glass of water to wipe off his smudging mustache. "Does yours rub off too?" He asked, teasing him about the mustache already.

"Oh, my god!" Mary near cried, the sound of anger rising in her tone. "Do you have any idea what you've done!?"

The sound of his girlfriend rising to the defense and the glare John only gave his enemies started to let Sherlock know by now; this was not going well.

"Okay, John, I'm suddenly realizing I probably owe you some sort of an apology-"

John suddenly slammed his knuckles onto the table. The slam shook the wine glasses, and startled nearby customers with a few gasps. Sherlock felt shocked, John has shown many points of being angry, annoyed, or pissed at Sherlock. This though, he felt his friend was a true ticking time bomb and Sherlock here was just tugging at all the wrong wires the entire time.

Mary instantly raised her hands, wanting to calm her boyfriend down. "Alright, just- John, just keep-"

John sucked in some air sharply, "Two years." He hissed, shaking his head and ducking his view again. John inhaled deeply and exhaled just as sharply, feeling he was between the verge of screaming or crying.

"Two years." He repeated, louder for Sherlock to hear this time. "I thought-" He paused, his voice cracking at the tension of those painful memories and emotions slammed into him as if he was the target in a shooting range.

"I thought… You were dead." He raised his brows, but Sherlock let him continued. "Now, you let me grieve. Left Helena and Dally all alone." The mention of them hurt Sherlock, making him take a breath at that. "How could you do that? How!?"

Sherlock bit his lip, trying to think maybe calming him down was the best approach before explaining anything. Despite a military man, John was a man to let his emotions run him into danger and stupid situations.

"Wait, before you do anything that you might regret, um, one question." Sherlock requested. "Just let me ask one question."

Mary and John waited, looking up for the single question he allowed him to ask.

"Are you really going to keep that?" He asked, unable to hold back a chortle of pointing out his damned stupid mustache. Marry scoffed, finding this scene completely unbelievable.

As anyone would've guessed, John took the instinct to lunge at Sherlock and wrap his hands around his throat with an urge to choke him out. Sherlock was thrown off by this attack, falling backwards against the floor trying to push him off. It took about six men to pull him off Sherlock, who was a tad stunned but also should've been more careful with that one question he was allowed to ask.


	3. Chapter 3

This lead to John and Sherlock being kicked out, Mary trailing behind. They managed to get to a small cafe. Sherlock sat in front of the couple, wanting to explain how it was he escaped the death. He was sure John's 'how' proved he wanted to know how he had done it, Sherlock didn't shy away in explaining it. Despite the glaring look John gave, arms tightly folded with his coat on and scarf hung around his neck with Mary sitting in her own coat, still in shock of the man before her.

"I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I'd invited Moriarty onto the roof. I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible, but keep Helena from getting involved. The first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags, a stunt Helena had done before. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling-"

"You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick." John stated, cutting off Sherlock unneeded long explanation.

Sherlock frowned, "What?" he hadn't expected to be interrupted.

"I don't care how you faked it, Sherlock." John informed, arms tightly folded against his chest. Nearly each word was a way of releasing his boiling anger. "I want to know why."

"Why?" Sherlock was a bit dumbfounded at the question. "Because Moriarty had to be stopped."

No response was made, one didn't have to be made. The squinting glared from John's gaze spoke to Sherlock alone. That's what he meant, Sherlock nodded when he realized John's actual question.

"Oh…" He folded his fingers with his elbows resting on the table. "Why, as in…?" John's slow impatient nod confirmed Sherlock's mistake. "I see. Yes. Why. That's a little more difficult to explain."

John shrugged, brows raised in expectation. "I've got all night." He challenged, now that his plans tonight were dashed.

Sherlock cleared his throat, thinking back those two years ago when this whole charade was planned. Actually, um, that was mostly Mycroft's idea."

"Oh, so it was your brother's plan?" John inquired.

"Oh, but he would have needed a confidante." Mary told, Sherlock nodded to her input. But John's look was one that she didn't want to be given. "Sorry." She muttered, feeling her input wouldn't the best right now.

"But he was the only one." John asked, looking back to Sherlock. "The only one who knew."

Sherlock sighed, feeling it would be best to just lie but John would see right through it now. "A couple of others. It was a very elaborate plan, it had to be." He felt it was enough and continued with his explanation. "The next of the thirteen possibilities was-"

"Who else?" John asked, wanting to know exactly who knew he was alive while he didn't. "Who else knew?" Sherlock hesitant grew. "Who!?"

"Molly."

"Molly!?" Out of all he knew he expected Mrs. Hudson or Lestrade, but Molly?

"John…" Mary warned when his voice rose.

"Molly Hooper," Sherlock confirmed, his gaze now down at the table. It was as if he was confessing who broke the vase. "And some of my homeless network and that's all."

John's brows went up, "You mean all those people who Helena helped and lived with? They know- Does she?" Had she faked not knowing that entire time!?

"No, no." Sherlock quickly answered. "She… doesn't know."

"Okay." At least he was completely out of the loop. He nodded to Mary who smiled softly hoping this would come to an end soon. "So just your brother, Molly Hooper, and one hundred tramps."

"Ha, no!" Sherlock scoffed with a grin. "Twenty-five at most."

That respond was like a punch as John reached across the table slamming a punch to Sherlock's face. He stumbled down to the floor as the table fell with glass shattering.

* * *

After being kicked out of t _hat_ cafe, the trio relocated to a kebab shop. Mary still stuck with them, standing by John's side in case he had the urge to violently attack his revived friend once more. Sherlock tended to a fresh cut on his lip from the massive hit John laid on him. Sherlock removed his coat, although who knows how long before they're kicked out of this establishment. He checked the blood on the napkin to see if the bleeding stopped, hissing when he placed it back on the cut. Unlike getting punched before, a simple small cut to the cheek, John was really wanting to leave some damaged to the detective.

John kept breathing in and out to calm down, but couldn't bring himself to match his gaze to his friend this time. The silence was just at the level of bearable, but Sherlock couldn't resist.

"Seriously, it's not a joke?" He asked, removing the napkin to motion to his upper lip. "You're really keeping this?"

Well, it was better than hearing him be snide about who exactly knew his fake death. John cleared his throat, leaning against the display case. "Er, yeah."

Sherlock gave a half nod, he didn't like it. "Sure?"

He finally looked up at Sherlock, he was acting like a child not liking a coat or shirt he was wearing. John felt he worked well on keeping it grown out like he did. "Mary likes it." That's all it mattered, she liked it.

"Hmm no, she doesn't." Sherlock informed, unable to stop staring at the hairy thing.

Oh, back to this again. "She does." John argued, he knew Mary more than Sherlock ever could.

"She doesn't." Sherlock repeated, replacing the napkin to his lip.

John glanced to Mary, expecting back up on his statement. But her face said it all, he knew that face. She rolled her eyes shaking her head, not wanting to get involved in this.

"Oh, don't."

"Oh, brilliant!" John suddenly felt silly with this stupid thing on his face. He had been walking around with this hairy lip all these months and she hated it!

"Look, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She sighed. "I didn't know how to tell you-"

"Right, no, no, this is charming." He sarcastically told. "I've really missed this!" John spat, pointing a finger at his friend.

Sherlock refolded the napkin when he stopped bleeding and pocketed the material. John inhaled and took a step up to Sherlock. "One word, Sherlock, that is all we would have needed!" He hissed at him. "One word to let us know that you were alive! Helena- Oh God!" He hung his head, all this had caused him to cut connections with his friend.

Mary had heard about her many times and wished to have met her and the cute little Dally. John talked about those two many times, but found himself unable to call or talk to them. Mary had encouraged him on New Years to wish them happy holidays, but John bailed out at the last second. Guilt ate at him from the inside out, he had left them all alone and now- This had to happen.

"I've nearly been in contact so many times, but-" John scoffed at Sherlock's attempt of sentiment. "I worried that, you know, you might say something indiscreet."

"What?" John blinked, was he insinuating?

Sherlock shrugged, "You know, let the cat out of the bag." Yes, yes he was.

"So this is my fault!?" John barked.

Mary laughed out in disbelief. "Oh, God!"

"Why am I the only one who thinks that this is wrong!?" He shouted, now gaining everyone's attention in the small shop. "The only one _reacting_ like a human being!?"

" _Over_ reacting." Sherlock corrected, calm as can be.

"Overreacting!?" John repeated in disbelief.

"John!" Mary scolded, trying to stop him from getting them kicked out again.

John ignored her, "Overreacting! So you fake your own death"

"Shh!"

"and you waltz in here large as bloody life!"

"Shh!" Sherlock kept shushing him, just because he was back didn't mean everyone had to know.

"But I'm not meant to have a problem with it, no! Because Sherlock Holmes thinks its a _perfectly_ okay thing to do!"

"Shut up, John! I don't want everyone knowing I;m still alive!" Sherlock barked back at him.

"Oh, so its still a secret, is it!?" John questioned, guessing he must have been the first person he went to in his return.

"Yes, it's still a secret!" He yelled, voice lowering to get John to lower his. He looked around seeing the customers eyeing up the shouting match between them.

John shifted his foot, glaring up at him. "I would guess that your own daughter wouldn't know your here either!?"

"No, of course not!" He barked, Sherlock voice rising once more.

"And Helena?" John inquired.

Sherlock was hesitant, his tone lower and calmer. "No, I plan to see her soon." He admitted, gaze shifting to the floor. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Swear to God!" John shouted, though he was sarcastic to his stupid question. John noticed the looks and leaned back, he felt his head rushing from the yelling. He was pretty sure he had just risen his blood pressure up that night alone.

Sherlock had to get to his point, taking a step to whisper these words. "London is in danger, John. There's an imminent terrorist attack and I need you and Helena's help."

John stared at him, brows high and eyes wide. He gave a certain looked to Mary, as if he had just asked the most ludicrous question in the world. He returned back to Sherlock, "My help?" he asked surprisingly calm.

Sherlock mistook his calmer tone to grin at his friend. "You have missed this, admit it. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins, the three of us against the rest of the world-"

**Crack!**

* * *

It was at that moment his made that regrettable choice, as John had given Sherlock a bloody nose with the impact of his head.

Outside in the cold, John had gotten to calling a cab as Mary tended to him like the nurse she was. He leaned his head back, new tissue in his hand as he waited for the bleeding to stop. What had he done wrong this time? Sherlock assured not everyone knew, offered him to help with this dangerous case, and even apologies! Where did he go wrong?

"I-I don't understand." Sherlock muttered, nose stinging as he tried to scramble a reasoning for John's third attack. "I said I'm sorry, isn't that what your supposed to do?" He asked, Mary standing beside him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, though it ached it wasn't broken, and pressed the napkin to his nose in case any more blood escaped.

Mary shook her head, she heard about this Sherlock. But, this isn't what she imagined at all. "Gosh," She sighed. "You don't know anything about human nature, do you?"

Sherlock let his nose go, but kept the tissue in place. "Hmm, nature? No." He told, eyes shifting from John to her. "Human?" Well, he was still learning, but he might be off a few steps. "No."

Mary smiled, "I'll take him round." she assured.

Sherlock frowned, this woman was different. Most of John's past girlfriends despise or hate the relationship he and John held. Calling Sherlock names and dumping John not even after a few weeks to a few months. But this Mary, she was willing to help Sherlock?

He lowered the tissue, feeling the bleeding had finally stopped. "You will?"

"Oh, yeah." She assured with a nod.

Sherlock thought back, he never really deduced her. He gave her a quick look over and a large amount of information came to him. She was an only child, a linguist and part time nurse. She was clever, a bit short-sighted and baked her own bread. A disillusioned cat lover, deep romantic, held an appendix scar and secrete tattoo. She was a size twelve shoe a guardian, but a bit of a liar thrown in.

Out of all he saw in her, nothing gave him the impression she was… bad for John. She was a normal London nurse with John Watson as her boyfriend. She held the grin, as if she knew he was deducing her, but actually didn't mind it. It reminded him of when he deduced Helena the first time, she was… fine with it. Sherlock can imagine these two being good friends, for sure.

"Mary!" John called, he had hailed a cab ready to take them home.

Mary gave one last smile before trotting over to join him in the cab. Sherlock stood by, watching the two take their leave to wherever they lived together.

It wasn't a night he had expected, just as his brother had said. John's life had changed, he was out of Baker Street, with a woman he loved, and a job he considered normal. He was… normal.

Sherlock turned toward the road to his left, ready to visit another dear someone. But the doubt filled his skull more and more as he thought of tonight. How would Helena react? Would she attack him just as John did? Possibly get a proper broken nose from her. Would she get ignore the fact he even came back and refuse to accept him? She would have every right to do so. Leaving her to take care of Dally-

And Dally, poor Dally. Being orphaned once, then later lose her father and almost orphaned again. He was thankful Mycroft pulled some strings with his position to have Helena officially adopt her. But with him back, Dally might be ecstatic to have him return. He thought back those years ago, when he last saw her in the Moore.

Yes, that was him. No illusions or tricks, he just had to see her one last time before he left. She was so broken and lost, he had hoped he pointed her to the right direction.

Doubt- this bloody doubt was something Sherlock only held to his investigations. With a pull of the collar and huff past his lips, he walked down the road knowing where he should go.

* * *

Hotel bathrooms never seem to ease well with at home at bathrooms. The shower head was always too low, the knobs made no sense of what was hot or cold, and the hotel soaps felt a sticky feeling on the skin. Helena dried off and wrapped herself in the silk blue robe as she dried her hair with her towel. At least the towels were nice and fluffy, so that was a plus one.

Her hair felt cold against her scalp as she stood in front of the mirror. Her sight was a tad off as she let the towel rest around her shoulders. Helena leaned onto the granite black and white counter, looking into her reflection. She raised her finger to gently tug at her eye lid in her right eye, seeing the dark tiny blotch that stained her eye. That's what caused her to lose her right peripheral. She let her lid go and stared back into her dark chocolate eyes. Soon, it would cover her entire sight, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Helena reached into her small bag she left in the bathroom and took out her eye drops. She dropped them into her eyes, closing them to let the drops settle. It wouldn't do much, but the treatment helped with the pain. The hot steam and shower made her eyes feel dry, if the bloody knobs worked well. The drops helped clear the cloud cover her eyes held for a while. The glasses eased her sight in the light giving UV protection and fixed any blurry sight she held.

A knock on the door made her turn her head, blinking her eyes. "Room service!" Called a deep voice. Helena frowned, she hadn't called room service.

"Sorry, I never called any." She called from the bathroom, looking back to check her eyes.

"Complimentary!" The man cheered, as if he was eager to bestow whatever it was he had. "From a Mr. Holmes."

Helena sighed with a roll of her eyes, must have been Mycroft. "Fine, just bring it in." She told, hearing the door open and a cart being wheeled into the room.

"I think you'll find this dish to be to you liking, Miss." He told, Helena frowned at the tone of his voice. He sounded really eager, maybe he just wanted a good tip.

"Okay." Helena muttered, ignoring him as she reached for her glasses.

Her eyes shot down at the counter not seeing them. With a sigh, she remembered to have left them on the bed side table. She tightened the robe around her slender body, if this man even tried anything she'd be ready.

Helena opened the bathroom door and stepped out, walking over to hopefully see the man prepare to leave. She noted the room was more dimly lit than she remembered, but blamed it on her sight. She walked around the large bed and picked up her glasses sliding them on. With a sigh, she turned to see the cart sitting by the desk and saw the plate of a delicious steak and some fruit with two wine glasses. Helena frowned, what was Mycroft thinking?

"Is it to your liking?" The man asked, making her jump as he stood by the window.

His tall slender form was seen from the lights of London Bridge bright outside her bay window. But because of the dark lighting, she couldn't see his whole figure or face, if he was facing the right way.

"Er, sure. Um, can you-"

"I saw it was a nice choice at a restaurant I was just visiting. Thought we'd have a taste, if you'd like." He offered, his tone had changed and it brought chills to her spine.

"...Who are you?" She questioned, frowning at the stranger.

The man reached for the lamp and switched it on, slowly turning to reveal himself. That curly dark bouncy hair, those lighting blue eyes, high sharp cheekbones and that low deep voice he held. Sherlock Holmes stood before her, coat off but he was in his usual dark blazer and matching slacks with the tightly fitted white dress shirt. No blood covering his head and face, his eyes were bright and filled with life, pupils were dilated once they set his sight onto her. His lips quirked upward as she cautiously took his approach to her, each step hitting the carpet to assure he was a solid mass there.

"Blue looks good on you." He commented, looking her figure up and down in his old dressing gown.

Helena just stared at him, her eyes looking deep into his, shifting now and then to take in his features. Sherlock felt the same as when John just stood in silence, he inhaled expecting a punch or slap of some sort for her, knowing she would release more anger than John had tonight.

He exhaled, looking down at his shoes seeing her bare pale feet. "I know, it's unexpected to pop back in like this."

His eyes raised back, his brows lowered finding the black spot in her right eye. Panic had surged through his veins as he held a fear that her sight was so bad, she couldn't see him.

"Helena, are you-"

Suddenly, Helena jumped at him, smashing her lips right onto his, eyes closed to press her body against his. Sherlock had expected a list of assaults, but a kiss was the last he would ever expect. He felt his shoulder sink and his hands reach up to cup her cheeks gently as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, feeling the back of his hair as she knotted her fingers through the dark fringes. The other hand roamed his back, assuring herself the solid form was really here and she wasn't imagining him. The soft lips against hers was enough to bring tears to her eyes, streaming down as the kiss grew wet from tears staining her face.

Sherlock didn't want the moment to end, but soon she pulled back to release a soft sob, making him wrap his arms around her and hold her close. She pressed her face into his chest, his long thin fingers combed through her semi wet hair. It soothed her so much but caused her to cry harder.

"I thought- You- I saw you- And I-" She hiccuped, unable to form a proper sentence between her crying. "Oh, God! I-I-"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He whispered into her hair.

They soon moved to sit on the bed, she leaned into his side, wiping her eyes. Helena eventually pulled back to get the tissues off the bedside table, being careful when wiping her eyes as she removed her glasses. He was dead- _Dead_. She saw him fall, she saw his cold dead body on the cement. How- How did he!?

"You fell, I _saw_ you." She sniffled, trying to stop the tears as he continued to comb her hair. She was sure she had cried her eye medicine out and would have to apply another dose. "You were dead, and covered in-in-in _blood_!"

Sherlock nodded, sighing as he was going through this once again like John. At least with Lestrade he just called him a bastard and hugged him. That's all it took. It was a good thing she didn't scream bloody murder like Mrs. Hudson did.

"I had to do it, Moriarty had to be stopped." He looked down, his hand skimming her back feeling the silk material over her bare back.

"...I-I thought I was the one who-"

"No, Helena, no." He stood before her, hands on his shoulders as she looked up at him. "None of this is your fault."

"But Sherlock, if I hadn't been up there with Trevor none of it would've happened." She stood, taking a few steps as she tried to relay her guilt she held for two years. "I chased after that psycho and Trevor kidnapped me. He was working for him the whole time, the whole thing was a trap!"

"Helena, listen to me." He turned her around, leaning down to her level. "Listen, all of it was planned ahead."

She searched his eyes as he nodded to confirm his words. "...W-What?" Her brows knotted as she heaved a breath. "P-Planned?"

Sherlock nodded, rubbing his hands against her arms to keep her as calm as she was now. "Mycroft had planned out worst case scenario to fake my death. It was the only way to stop Moriarty."

Helena stepped back from his grip, she shook her head and raised a hand to understand this information. "...Mycroft knew you were alive?"

"It was all his idea." He told.

"That bastard!" Helena barked, gripping her drying hair and groaning in anger. "He knew! That fu-" She bit her knuckle hard, noting to give him a piece of her mind next time she saw him. "Anyone else know?"

Now Sherlock hesitated, would she hit Molly if she found out. Not to mention people of his homeless network. The hesitation made Helena a raise at him, "Sherlock, who else knew?"

"You know, I don't that's too important right now." He tried to change the subject, motioning towards the tray. "Your meal is getting cold, by the way."

Helena shook her head. "...Did John know?"

Sherlock slowly turned back to her, he placed the plate back down and approached her. "No, he didn't know."

She looked back up to him, he raised a hand to her cheek gently rubbing the tear stains. The touch made her eyes glassy to release more. "Does he know your alive?"

"He was the first I met tonight." He told honestly.

Helena finally quirked a grin, Sherlock questioned it until she reached up to touch the cut on his lip. "I see he express his feelings on your return."

Sherlock resisted to wince, it still hurt to touch the healing injury. "Along with a near broken nose."

"Did you sneak into his flat? He seems to want to put you back in your grave." She joked, letting tears escape the corner of her eyes.

"I seemed to have interrupted his dinner date." He explained.

Sherlock reached over to the bed getting more tissues to wipe her eyes. Soon she would find them puffy and stinging from all her crying. At first she was going to accept them, but Sherlock wiped them as delicate as possible. She didn't ask about the date or anything more about John. She really could care less about the sod.

Her hand reached him, holding his as she looked downward. "I just expect to wake up, and find this all a dream."

Sherlock took her hand with his free one, squeezing it to assure he was real. He tucking his knuckle under her chin so he could look right into her eyes. She knew he was focusing on the right one, almost ashamed she tried to look away. Sherlock kept her chin in place, his eyes held guilt as he scanned over her. She knew he knew it, seeing the black in her eye was answer enough.

"You know," She chuckled to bit back a sob wanting to escape her throat. "I'll have to re-apply my medicine, I pretty much cried it out."

Sherlock's lips didn't crack, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, lashes closed over her eyes to take in the contact he was gifting her. Never had Sherlock been tender to her, and two years she yearned for it to never end. He held her close once more, releasing a sigh into her hair.

"How long are you visiting for?" He asked, his voice in a soft low whisper as if fearful for anyone to hear.

"A few days." She said, resting her cheek against his shoulder, Her arms hugging his waist, her hands roaming his back feeling the smooth blazer he wore. "I have a check up after tomorrow."

"Mycroft informed me," He told, taking in the scent of the shampoo she used. Still using the fruity ones, as always. Didn't seem everything had changed. "And Dally?"

"She wanted to stay back. Oh, Sherlock." She pulled back smiling up at him, one he missed for so long. "Dally is growing up so much! And… She reminds me of you in so many ways."

Sherlock grinned, "She is a Holmes." he told her.

Helena smiled, stepping away. "I'll get dressed, so um…" Helena quickly picked up her glasses, and idled by the door. She had a look of hesitance, if she were to go through that door he would disappear.

Sherlock understood her fear, and approached her looking down at her small frame. "I'm not going anywhere."

He leaned in, giving her a kiss as just deep as she gave him before. Helena felt the air leave her, tilting her head as they pressed their lips together. They opened their mouths just a tad, her hand reached up for his shoulder as she rested a hand on her waist. Slowly parting, Helena felt her lungs needed air as she left into the bathroom. She leaned on the door, pressing her hand to her chest as her heart pounded hard against her ribs. Sher chest was ready to explode, mind dizzy not wanting this to ever end.

Even if this was a dream, it was worth having.

* * *

After Helena got dressed, back into her day clothes of her dark green jumper and blue jeans, she fixed her hair now dry. Sherlock looking her over, now noticing how short her hair was compared to the long length it used to her. Her glasses placed back on, a bag in her hand that held her eye drops were kept. Helena's smile returned seeing him still here, he returned it as she placed the bag on her bedside.

"Where are you staying?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the man she loved.

Helena sat on the bed as he stood by, hands in his trouser pockets. "Back at the old flat."

Her brows shot up, moving to sit with her legs crossed. "Mrs. Hudson knows your here?" He nodded, she rocked back and forth. "Anyone else?"

"Molly and Lestrade." He told.

Helena raised a brow, "Oh, so they come before me?" she teased.

Sherlock looked down, knowing she was joking. "After John's reaction, I-" He cleared his throat. "I didn't know how you would take to…" He gestured to himself.

"Thought I was gonna lay a hit on you?" She asked.

"A cut to the lip and a near broken nose isn't the worst I've had." He shrugged, looking to Helena seeing her surprised by that information. "But I've seen what you could do."

Helena chuckled. "I thought I saw some blood stains on your upper lip." She told, pointing at him.

Sherlock frowned and raised his hand for the feel of any dry blood. He was sure he cleaned all the blood from his nose before getting here. Helena raised an amused brow, was Sherlock worried how he looked for her? That was adorable!

"Would, er," He cleared his throat, something he did when his brain was scrambling for a proper sentence. "Would you come to the flat with me?" He waved his hand around the room. "Better than this hotel room, that's for sure. Only if, um, if you want to. I mean-"

Helena stood from the bed, grinning up at him. "You don't even need to ask, Sherlock. Because you aren't leaving my sight for a moment."

Sherlock grinned and held her hand. "I was hoping you'd say that."

* * *

The following morning was a tizzy for people. With the recent release of Sherlock Holmes alive London was all over Twitter with tags such as #SherlockLives and #SherlockIsNotDead. It exploded into the morning that the news on the telly went insane.

Helena stood by the TV, her late morning tea in her hand and her hair a mess. She wore the blue gown over her sleep wear of shirt and sweatpants as she drank her tea. The flat felt like home. Returning last night was a blur with how late the two returned. She slept in his bed, and woke up to find him sitting there with her. It was as if he wanted to assure her he was really there, and all that happened last night really happened.

Sherlock never told the full plan of his fake death nor told how he had done it. Helena didn't care about any of that. He was there, alive and standing before her. She turned after muting the telly seeing him get to work on a case Mycroft gave him for his return. Helena remembered hearing that short explanation, though she felt useless to help him. She no longer jumped roofs or ran through the streets and with her sight, felt she couldn't trust herself to do so. What use could she be of him with the terrorist attack on London? He had many pictures of people and the map of London. With a black marker he X'd out some photos and connected lines to others which were soon X'd out as well.

The butterflies in her stomach fluttered as she turned the telly off and watch him work. It was soothing to see this again, she wasn't rushing around to make breakfast or working to wait tables and clean dishes. She just felt relaxed for once, and reveled in it while she could. Sherlock still had the power to ease her into a comfort level.

Helena approached when he paused, eyes shifting about on the wall above the couch. "Nothing yet?" She asked, sipping her cup of tea gently.

"So far." He mumbled, caping the black marker in his hand.

She hummed and rested her head on his shoulder as she looked over the wall. "What's the time limit to finding the terrorists?"

Sherlock sighed, "When the attack is launched." he informed. Helena scoffed, lifting her head. "Mycroft will be coming no doubt to rush my work."

Helena's eyes beamed, "Please tell me I get a word in edgewise?" she asked.

"If you mean to 'deck' him, by all means." He encouraged.

She huffed, smiling at him. "I'm going to take a shower."

"You had one last night." Sherlock told, brows low.

"Yes, and the water was dreadful and the shower head was tiny. I want a _proper_ shower." She walked into the kitchen, finishing her tea and washing the cup out. "Don't tell Mycroft I'm here!" Helena called down the hall.

"Won't need to." He called back.

Helena took a long shower, reveling in the nice warm water and the shower head high above her head getting her hair and body soaked properly. Since she had already washed her hair, she didn't worry on washing it a second time today. All Helena wanted was a good soak.

She turned the water off and stepped out, drying herself on the towels. She dressed into some day wear since Mycroft would be visiting. Helena clipped her bra on and slipped on her underwear. She put on a white tight long sleeve with a black tank top over top and jeans. She slipped on her socks and sneakers, taking her brush off the night stand of the bedroom and putting her glasses on she placed next to it. She looked around the room, placing the brush down deciding to make up the med. She tucked the sheets and fluffed the pillows. One wouldn't even think someone slept here.

She picked the brush up again, looking to the mirror on his closet to fix her hair properly. Satisfied, she put the brush back down and left the bed room to hear Mycroft and Sherlock talking.

"I've given the Prime Minister my personal assurance you're on the case." Mycroft told, Helena guessed it was about that terrorist attack they were talking about. No doubt trying to put the pressure onto Sherlock about it.

"I am on the case, we both are, look at us right now." Sherlock replied quickly.

Helena walked through the kitchen and glanced through to see the men sitting across from each other. A sudden buzzer noise made her jump. "Oh, bugger!"

What the hell exactly where these two doing? "Whoopsy!" Sherlock looked up, smiling at Helena entering the room. "Can't handle a broken heart. How _very_ telling." He teased his brother.

Helena wanted to just laugh, finding the two grown men playing the board game, Operation. "Don't be smart." He retorted, placing the tiny red plastic heart back into the little hole.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair, crossing his leg over the knee. "That takes me back. 'Don't be smart, Sherlock. _I'm_ the smart one.'" He pitched his voice imitating a younger arrogant Mycroft.

"I _am_ the smart one." He reminded, sending him a look.

"I used to think I was an idiot." Sherlock told, thinking back to those old days of his childhood.

"Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock." The grin returned to Mycroft's features, as he relaxed back into his seat. "We had nothing else to go on, until we met other children."

"Oh, yeah. That was a mistake." Sherlock mumbled.

"Ghastly." Mycroft agreed. "What were they thinking of?"

Helena leaned onto the doorway, raising a brow at the expense of learning Sherlock's childhood. "Probably something about trying to make friends." Sherlock guessed.

"Oh, yes. _Friends._ " Mycroft took the hook on where Sherlock was going with this subject change. "Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now. Going as far as _girl_ friend."

"Aww, how sweet." The two men looked over as a grinning Helena entered the room. "Mycroft, how great to see my boyfriend and his brother having a rousing chat over Operation." Sherlock bit back a grin, looking down as she held a sarcastic tone to her greeting.

"Dally would be giddy to hear she'll have a board game session with her loving Uncle Mycroft." He tilted her head toward him. "Unless, of course, her father would like to reveal himself to her as well sometime soon?"

Mycroft faltered, glancing to Sherlock then back up to Helena who held an expectant look. "Good to see you, Helena. How was your train ride?"

She shrugged, folding her arms. "It was fine. But, there I was thinking I wouldn't be needing to visit dear Mycroft Holmes." She extended her arm out at him. "Yet, here you are" she pointed at herself then. "and here I am." She nodded to Sherlock. "And here is your brother, alive and breathing."

The dark look in her eyes said it all. Mycroft sighed, tilting his head at her. "All of this would've been in due time, my dear." He assured.

"Would that have been from his mouth," She pointed to Sherlock. "Or the jackass' mouth?" She asked, motioning toward him to be said jackass.

Mycroft hummed as he chuckled. "Nice to know you haven't changed a bit. Though the hair is-"

"I like it." Sherlock interrupted, knowing Mycroft was just finding something else to irritate the already agitated woman.

"Of course you would." He retorted, taking a short glance toward Sherlock's bedroom. "Lovely night with my brother?"

Helena smirked, she sighed and shook her head. "Mycroft, you kept Sherlock safe and alive. And you helped me with Dally, so I guess I can't be too mad at you." Helena admitted, "Though expect a nice present this Christmas." she warned.

Mycroft watched her move back into the kitchen, probably cooking something when he heard the fridge door open and close. He looked back to his brother, just to see him break his gaze from Helena to return to Mycroft.

"You seem to be enjoying your time with her." He inquired.

"You don't? Ever?" He questioned, referring to their conversation before Helena came up to them.

"If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like?" He asked, since he already had to deal with working with 'real' people on a daily basis. "I'm living in a world of goldfish."

Sherlock took that into consideration, pressing the digits of his fingers together. "Yes, but I've been away for two years."

"So?" Mycroft inquired.

He looked away finding doubt to his brother. "I don't know. I thought perhaps you might have found yourself a _goldfish_."

Helena peeked in as she got a pan, checking how clean it was. Mycroft had this offended look, one rare to see. Sherlock wished Helena could see it. "Change the subject, _now_." He stood, pacing in front of the mantel.

Helena chuckled, finding what she needed to make lunch. Mrs. Hudson had brought some food up last night according to Sherlock, she wanted to do some shopping so he would have proper meals.

"Rest assured, Mycroft. Whatever this underground network of yours is up to, the secret will reside in something seemingly insignificant or bizarre." Sherlock told, trying to lengths any many of his words as possible.

"Ohh-ohh!" Came the greeting that was Mrs. Hudson, bringing tea up to the men. Helena waited for her water to boil as she stood by the kitchen.

"Speaking of which." Mycroft muttered under his breath, Sherlock grinned.

"I can't believe it." She beamed, placing the tray down to smile at Sherlock. "I just can't believe it! Him, sitting in his chair again."

Helena smiled when Sherlock beamed, as if he was a child back from boarding school. Her eyes wandered to her by the kitchen.

"And Helena, oh, sweetheart!" She walked over hugging Helena for the fifth time that day. "Oh, isn't it wonderful, Mr. Holmes?" Mrs. Hudson asked Mycroft.

"I can barely contain myself!" He replied, that sarcastic tone strong as ever toward the landlady.

"Oh, he really can, you know." Sherlock commented, resting his chin on his knuckles.

That didn't keep Mrs. Hudson's mood down, she still smiled brightly at the brothers. "He's secretly pleased to see you, underneath all that."

Sherlock grinned as she hugged Helena one last time before walking toward the door. "Sorry, which of us?" Mycroft inquired.

"Both of you." She replied, knowing how to work around Mycroft's snide attitude.

Mrs. Hudson joined Helena in the kitchen to get the tea set. While waiting she got to rinsing out the dishes in the sink. "Oh, sorry. I meant to get to those." Helena told.

"Nonsense, deary." She patted her arm. "You had arrived late last night, you should relax with Sherlock back and all."

Helena scoffed, "Honestly my mind is running around a million miles an hour." she told. "I have the urge to just-"

"Dote on him?" Mrs. Hudson asked, raising a brow. Helena looked to her, turning the stove heat down as the pan grew hot. "There's nothing wrong with it." She assured.

"I mean," Helena shrugged as she got her bread slices and spread the butter on each side. "I think taking care of Dally gave me this motherly duty. But, that's obviously different for Sherlock."

Mrs. Hudson patted her back gently, "Some would call this a honeymoon phase." she told.

Helena as caught off guard by the term, almost cutting her hand with the knife to slice her cheese into smaller bits. "S-Sorry, a what?"

"Oh, you know. That dreamy feeling, always leaning on each other and feeling complete bliss with one another?" Mrs. Hudson explained, sighing at the memory of her younger days as such.

It sort of made sense, the two were just admitting their feelings before the incident. They did little touching each other;s hands, and small kisses to their heads. First sight of Sherlock after two years, she lost count how many times they kissed each other. Her heart raced at the thought of how the two were sort of acting like a newly married couple this morning.

"How long does that feeling last?" Helena asked, pressing the cheese between her bread slices to make a sandwich. If she had more, Helena would add some seasoning or peppers and tomatoes.

"Well, some say it can never end. Last for years depending on the couple." Mrs. Hudson tilted her head, a grimace look on her wrinkled features. "I've seen it only last a few days to others."

She noticed the distressed look on Helena, she shook her head at the worried young woman. "But, you and Sherlock always get along in the end. Just got to keep open with one another."

Helena nodded, smiling as she turned her head to see her in her right side. "Thanks, Mrs. Hudson."

Mrs. Hudson's tea was ready, she got the tea pot and walked in, commenting on something the brothers were talking about. She returned and started drying the dishes she cleaned in the sink. She took notice to Helena's cooking, never seeing her cook before since she brought back take out for the boys. Helena was careful frying the sandwich so the cheese would melt but not too much. Mrs. Hudson heard Helena counting before she took the spatula and flip the sandwich to reveal the golden brown on the top side.

"May, quite the chef we have here." She praised, making Helena blush. "I cook a lot for Dally, gotten myself into cookbooks and trying new dishes out every other day."

"Sherlock could use a good home cooked meal than those take outs he always eats." She noted, Helena chuckled in agreement. She'd be glad to cook home meals for Sherlock.

Helena decided the other side was cook enough, she took a plate and served the hot cheese toasties and turned the burner off. "I'll clean the pan later." She told, slicing the sandwich diagonal. Helena knew the landlady would take care of it anyway.

She entered the room finding the brothers discussing over a weird hat in Sherlock's grip. Helena walked over to sit on the couch and watched from her seat, waiting for her sandwich to cool. It was like lunch and a show for her now.

"Maybe he just doesn't mind being different." Mycroft told his brother, referring to the owner of the hat.

While Helena slept in that morning, Sherlock got a client and he left it behind. She questioned it before, but when he answered 'client' that was all she had to hear to understand.

"He doesn't necessarily have to be isolated." Mycroft told.

Sherlock shrugged, "Exactly." He agreed.

Judging by Mycroft's silent, he was thrown off my his brother's reply. "I'm sorry?"

Sherlock glanced up from fiddling with the possibly gross hat. Helena was homeless for most of her life, but sure as hell didn't want to touch that hat. "He's different, so what? What would he mind? You're quite right."

Sherlock lifted the hat to let it just sit atop his bushy curled hair. He indeed looked a bit ridiculous with it on, Helena admitted. "Why would anyone mind?"

This was clearly a jab right at his brother. Here Sherlock was with friends and even a girlfriend. Yet there his older brother was, not a single friend, partner, or an acquaintance like the younger Holmes. Though Mycroft found this accusation appalling.

"I am not lonely, Sherlock." He denied.

Sherlock gave a doubting look, one his brother was surprised to find toward him. Sherlock barely ever talked about personal lives or social standards. Here he was, nosy in Mycroft's life. Helena watching intently, placing her plate onto the coffee table as if ready for the lion to jump at the gazelle.

The little brother leaned in, whispering, "How would you know?" at Mycroft.

He moved around his brother removing the hat, who gave the same dumbfounded look towards Helena. Though she grinned enjoying to see Mycroft squirm a little. It was a rare sight and, damnit, she would revel in it while her eyes still worked.

"Yes." Mycroft sighed, Mrs. Hudson peeked into the room as she wiped a glass cup clean. "Back to work, if you don't mind." He nodded to his brother and Helena. "Good morning."

He bid them farewell and left for the door, taking his leave. Sherlock sent a wink to Mrs. Hudson who giggled happily. She was glad it didn't end in a horrible argument as it always did.

Sherlock sighed, approaching Helena as she checked the temperature of her sandwich." Right, back to work."

He took a slice and bit into it. Helena squealed out at him, as he placed it back on the plate. He hummed how good it was, earning a joking glare from the woman before focusing on his work on the wall above her head.


	4. Chapter 4

After finishing her lunch, she watched Sherlock continue his work in content silence. He would pin another photos, check his phone and then cross the photo out. It seemed to be a repeated process, which was not good. Each photo crossed out got him father away from the terrorists. Rarely did Sherlock struggle, but then again she usually never see him take Mycroft's cases seriously. This was a serious threat to London though, so it made sense Sherlock was devoting so much of his morning toward this.

"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson called, appearing at the door with a concerned look.

"Hm?"

"Talk to John." She advised.

Helena scowled at the mention of his name, sitting in the chair across from Sherlock's. Her legs hung over the armchair as her back was pressed against its twin

"I tried talking to him." He told, pocketing the mobile phone he used for his homeless network. "He made his position quite clear."

"What did he say?" She asked.

Sherlock glanced toward her, "Fuck off." he answered

"Ooh, dear!" She left to his work, stunned the sweet man would say such a thing.

Helena scuffed, leaning her head back. "Whatever." She stood from the chair, her blue robe flowing before her as she stood by Sherlock in his red one. "He wants to move on, let him. You've done fine without John before, you can do fine without him now."

Sherlock gave a glance to Helena, feeling disdain in her words as she shown before when John was mentioned. She heard the buzz of her phone, gasping at the caller I.D. "Shit, be right back."

She answered the phone, rushing off into Sherlock's room. "Hey, sweetie!" She greeting before shutting the door.

Dally, how could he forget. Once done with this whole London threat Sherlock would have to pay a visit and show her he was alive and well. They'd move back to London and live happily in the flat together. Solving crimes, catching killers, a real thing to teach Dally. He remembered her being so eager with his stories of past cases and had expressed wanting to help him with one. That day might not be too far off.

But for now, he needed help with cases that were to surely pile up with his return. H needed an assistant, and while Helena would be perfect, she wasn't John Watson. She was Helena and helped in her own way. No, she needed a new John. Someone who knew dead bodies, someone to explain his deductions, help with solving cases.

At that moment, Sherlock knew exactly who to contact for help.

Sherlock sent a text to Molly for her to arrive promptly when she can. If he was correct she was having a day off and even if not, would be free enough to help with what he needed. Hoping the conversation Helena held was long enough, within the next hour Molly arrived.

"You wanted to see me?" She greeted, that cute mousy smile she held toward people.

Sherlock turned from the window, greeting her in return. "Yes. Molly?"

"Yes?"

He took a step closer, thinking how to ask this as nicely as possible. As least condescending as he could be. After all, she said she would help with anything, and after the fall, this was a small gesture to ask.

"Would you like to solve crimes?"

"Have lunch?"

The two narrowed their eyes, minds not on the same subject as the other thought. Molly squinted her eyes, looking around the room not finding John anywhere. "...Solve crimes?"

Sherlock nodded, hands resting in his trouser pockets. "I'm in need of an assistant." He stepped forward, glancing to the bed room. "Helena needs someone as well."

Molly blinked back in surprise. "She's here?"

He nodded. "Her eyes are getting worse, I want to make sure she'll be alright helping me solve some cases."

"Why doesn't she stay here?" Molly asked, though found it to be stupid now thinking it over.

Sherlock sighed, not annoyed though. "She won't be leaving my side for a good while."

"So then she knows-"

"Yup!" He told, popping the end of the word. "She'll be joining us, of course."

"Of course." Molly nodded, not expecting anything less. "How did she take it?"

Sherlock bit back a smirk, "Better than hoped." he told.

Molly let her grin show, "That good?" she joked.

Sherlock frowned, but the bedroom door opened before he could question her notion. Helena came out, pocketing the phone into her back pocket. "Sorry about- Molly!"

She turned earning a hug from her friend. "Hey, Helena."

"What are you doing here?" Helena asked, glancing to Sherlock.

Molly glanced to Sherlock, how gave a pointed look. "She'll be joining us in solving crimes today."

Helena's brows shot up, looking between the two. "Really?" Her eyes fell on Molly. "You sure you want to?"

Molly shrugged, "Yeah, why not?" she asked.

"No, no. I just-" She glanced to Sherlock who looked with those innocent puppy eyes. "It sounds great!" She said with truthful excitement. "Just be prepared for the weird cases that can come rolling in."

* * *

"-Monkey glands, but enough about Professor Presbury." Sherlock dismissed, as they started the afternoon with their first case.

Molly sat in a dining room chair beside Sherlock's chair as Helena stood by the window. The clients were a wealthy couple, the wife sitting across from then and the husband standing beside her. Molly was biting back a smile, excited to be experiencing the Sherlock Holmes cases she always read about- be it odd or extensive. She really didn't care.

"Tell us more about _your_ case, Mr. Harcourt." He walked past back over to them.

"You sure about this?" She whispered to him as he passed.

"Absolutely." He told with confidence.

"Should I be making notes?" Molly asked, wanting to do the right thing as an assistant.

"If it makes you feel better." He unbuttoned his blazer and sank into his seat.

"That's what John says he does. So if I'm being John-"

"You're not being John," Sherlock assured. "You're being yourself."

Helena and Molly hadn't expect that to be said, but Sherlock of all people. Molly glanced over her shoulder at Helena who gave an encouraging nod.

"Well," Mr. Harcourt started, his rich snazzy suit and slick back hair annoyed Helena. It screamed, 'I have money, piss off' to her. "Absolutely no one should have been able to empty that bank account other than myself and Helen."

Sherlock did a quick short deduction, quickly standing back up to the man in disgust. "Why didn't you assume it was your wife?" He asked.

"Because I've always had total faith in her." That answer just sealed the deal for Sherlock.

"No, it's because _you_ emptied it. Weight loss, hair dye, botox affair." He pointed right at his stomach, hair line, and brows as he named each eveidence out. He whipped a card out toward Mrs. Harcourt claiming, "Lawyer. Next!"

The couple left with the wife looking over the card in distraught. Yelling could be heard down the stairs as they made their leave. "That must be record time." Molly said.

Helena chuckled, "He's done them much faster." she informed. Though the lawyer card prepared at her ponder. Usually domestic cases he never took, why take that one?

* * *

The following case a young woman and her stepfather entered, she was upset about a pen pal she had emailed for a year. Molly had started to write down her notes on the dining table, Helena stood by as Sherlock had sat with the daughter. He held her hands with his soft voice asking her about her case.

"And your pen pal's emails just stopped, did they?" He asked, the woman nodded, her face contorted with emotional pain. "And you really thought he was the one, didn't you? The love of your life?"

Sherlock stole a glance toward the girls, he stood and walked over to them. "Stepfather posing as online boyfriend." He whispered to them.

The girls were shocked, "What?" they both whispered back.

"Breaks it off, breaks her heart. She swears off relationships, stays at home. He still has her wage coming in."

Sherlock spun at the stepfather, his tone and attitude taking a complete 180. "Mr. Windibank, you have been a complete and utter-" Sherlock's phone went off, he sighed and looked at the collar I. D. seeing it was Lestrade. "Helena?"

She nodded and walked over to the client's father as Sherlock answered the phone. "Mr. Windibank, you should be ashamed of yourself!" She barked at him, catching him off guard.

Molly's head turned left and right, Sherlock walking over to the mantel to take his call as Helena was left to close the case and escort them out. "How dare you pose as your daughter's pen pal just so you can keep her at home!"

Molly was stunted, watching Helena let it all out on the man who claimed he never did it. The daughter stood, yelling at her stepfather agreeing with Helena. She shook her hand and thanked her, marching toward the stairs, claiming she was moving out. Her stepfather sent a look to Helena, who gave a shit eating grin and waved as he chased after his daughter. Molly quickly noted that down, as Helena took a seat on the couch with a sigh.

She missed this.

Sherlock finished his call, looking to the girls. "Next client?" Helena asked.

"Better."

* * *

It felt like forever since Helena had followed with Sherlock to a crime scene. The chills up her spine and hair standing on her arms made her feel alive once again. Arriving at the home, they found Lestrade standing outside waiting. It was one thing to see Molly, but spotting Helena was another.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He asked, as she came over to give him a hug.

"Came for a visit, quite the timing, huh?" She asked, glancing to Sherlock.

Lestrade grinned, seeing the odd couple back together. He can only imagine how her reaction to his return was. "Well, your timing seems perfect either way."

Lestrade led them inside a home where the basement door was covered in police tape. Someone had found the room and reported the sight to the cops. "This one's got us all baffled." He told them, tearing away the tape for them to enter.

"Hmm, I don't doubt it." Sherlock replied.

Lestrade went down first, Sherlock following with Molly and Helena tailing after. Helena grew nervous as the darkness came in, instinctively grabbing Molly's coat sleeve. She glanced back, pausing as they were at the hole of a brick wall.

"Sorry," She chuckled nervously, motioning at her eyes. "Can't see well in the-"

"Ohh!" Molly suddenly forgot her condition! How could she? "Here." She offered her hand, Helena took it and allowed her to guide her into the room with the men.

Lestrade got the black lights on first, then the second lights to show them the sight they found. There was a single desk covered in dust and years old cobwebs. A glass, old lantern, but what caught the attention more was the well dressed skeleton sitting at the desk.

Sherlock squinted at it, it was up his ally for sure. He approached the table and got to work on examining the bones with his magnifier. Helena stood by Molly who had her pen and paper ready to note down anything important.

He leaned down looking closely at the arm and suit. A scent caught his attention, some type of wood. Pine? No, maybe spruce? No, no. cedar is what he smelled. Another scent with it, new mothballs, used for storage. He sniffed more, getting a carbon particle, resulting to the answer of fire damage.

Sherlock stood straight and snapped his magnifier close, pulling his sell out. He raised it up to find a service "What is it?" Molly asked, so eager to find out. "You're onto something, aren't you?"

"Maybe." Sherlock mumbled, placing his phone back in his pocket.

_Show off_

"Shut up, John." Sherlock whispering, hearing the words as if he was standing right there.

"What?" Molly and Helena looked up, hearing him mumble something.

"Nothing." Sherlock dismissed, continuing his examination of the skeleton.

Lestrade was curious and leaned over to Sherlock, though he knew better than to bother him. He still asked, "This gonna to be your new arrangement, is it?" He asked, referring to Molly instead of John."

"Just giving it a go." Sherlock calmly replied, not even bothered by the question.

"Right." Greg glanced to Molly who start noting down her own things she had noticed. Helena stood by, arms crossed as she eyed up the skeleton. "So, John?"

Sherlock stood, stealing a glance to Greg before moving past him. "Not really in the picture anymore."

He stepped back, giving the scene a look as his mind got to work. The walls shook as the dust started to fall from the concrete walls and ceiling. "Trains?" Molly inquired, not realizing how close to the tracks they were.

"Trains." Sherlock confirmed, crouching down as he figured with a mental compass of the orientation of the room.

Molly walked over, she herself started to examine the bones as she had worked with corpses before. Helena watched with interest as she carefully stepped over to stand by Lestrade. She couldn't see the side glance he gave her, he assumed she was focused on the scene before her.

"Male, forty to fifty." Molly said, as Sherlock stood and walked over to her to see the bones once more. She looked to him, feeling she overstepped her boundaries. "Oh, sorry, did you want to be-"

"Er, no, please." Sherlock stepped back, giving her space to do her work. "Be my guest."

_You jealous?_

Sherlock gritted his teeth hearing those words in his head. "Shut up!" He growled to himself.

Molly and the two heard that clear as day, she gave them a nervous look as they sent a confusing one right back. Sherlock wasn't acting himself, it was like he was arguing with someone in his mind. Sherlock looked closely at the syringe in the bony hand resting on the table surface.

"It doesn't make sense." Molly said, stepping from the bones.

Lestrade frowned, "What doesn't?" he asked.

Sherlock was gently blowing the dust off the desk surface to get a good look at the wood. Helena took careful steps to check it out from the other side.

"This skeleton, it can't be more than." She shrugged.

"Six months old." She and Sherlock said, both on the same idea.

A click was heard, Sherlock had found a hidden compartment on the side of the desk once he blew enough dust away. He reached inside gently taking out what he found to be a book. He stood, blowing more dust off, and read the title before showing it to Molly who was shocked by the words.

"Wow!" She exhaled, fascinated by how Sherlock had found that.

He dropped the book carelessly onto the table for Lestrade and Helena to see. The words were a bit hard for her to read, as she squinted at the book cover.

" 'How I Did it' By Jack the Ripper." Greg read out-loud, making Helena blink in shock.

"No way!" She grinned with Lestrade as Molly was just as surprised.

"It's impossible!" She softly exclaimed.

"Welcome to my world." Sherlock told her, stepping aside to pack up his tools in his case.

_Smart arse._

Sherlock grumbled as he waved a head over his head as if shooing a pesky fly. "I won't insult your intelligence by explaining it to you."

Lestrade shook his head, still grinning like an idiot. "No, no please! Insult away." He insisted, really wanting to know.

_You forgot to put your collar up._

Sherlock's mind was a bit muffled by that comment, obviously rushing to make his leave. But, at Greg's request he scrambled his brain up again to give his explanation. "The-the-the corpse is-is six months old; it's dressed in a shoddy Victorian outfit from a museum. It's been displayed on a dummy for many years in a case facing south-east judging from the fading of the fabric. It was sold off in a fire-damage sale a week ago." Sherlock pulled his phone out to show proof of the sale.

Greg scratched his head, taking in that information. "So the whole thing was a fake?" He asked.

"Yes." He quickly answered, turning around and heading toward the stairs.

"Looked so promising." Greg muttered, thinking this would've been a good case.

"Facile!" Sherlock called back.

"Why would someone go to all that trouble?" Molly asked.

"Why indeed, John?" Was Sherlock's careless reply not even acknowledging the correct person who asked it.

Molly and Greg shared looks as Molly stepped off to put her pen and paper away. "Well, that was fun." Helena gave a nod to Greg as she and Molly took their leave to following the detective.

* * *

It had started snowing as they left. Sherlock had to return something to a client, Molly and Helena still stuck with him as they arrived. He had contacted him after checking Greg's 'crime scene' about seeing something. Best opportunity to return the hat, Helena thought. Though she was curious to what he was eager to show Sherlock.

Outside the home, Sherlock held the hat and rung the doorbell. Some would have a buzzer or a pretty tune. Nope, instead they heard-

**Mind the gap. Mind the gap.**

Molly giggled to herself at the weird choice. It was heard when the doors to the underground tube system opened to board the trains. The door opened to the owner, the man was a bit big and looked to be someone who enjoyed solace then be out with people. Helena took that guess alone with the hat, but she's seen worse people interact in the streets. Sherlock held the hat out, the man seeing it hadn't realized he left it back apparently.

"Oh. Thanks for hanging onto it." He told, taking it from the detective.

"No problem." Sherlock dismissed. They allowed them in as he lead them into a room on the far right of the hall. "So, what's this all about, Mr. Shilcott?"

Once they entered the room, it was as if they had just entered a little boy's playroom. Model trains riding on a platform display, photos of the man in a hat with many different trains and more models were displays in a case as if trophies.

"My girlfriend is a big fan of yours." He told Sherlock.

The detective scoffed, glancing to the ladies behind him. "Girlfriend!?"

He turned back once the man looked over at the scoffing notion. "Sorry." Sherlock dropped his smirk. "Do go on."

"I like trains." The man stated, as if the room wasn't a hint to that already.

"Yes…" Sherlock lingered, wondering what that had to do with them coming here.

"Pretty obvious." Helena muttered, earning a sharp look from Sherlock.

"I work on the tube, on the District Line, and part of my job is to wipe the security footage after its been cleared." He explained, leading up to the reason of them coming here- Helena hoped. "I was just whizzing through and I found something a bit bizarre."

Howard turned onto his monitors as Sherlock turned to the girls giving a silent 'ooh!' to them. Molly smiled as Helena rolled his eyes. She was honestly impressed how behaved Sherlock had been all day.

Sherlock and the girls wandered up behind Howard as he got the footage ready he was talking about. On the uncolored security footage, a man in a nice business suit stood on the platform waiting to board the train with a briefcase in his hand. Helena frowned, everything seemed normal- So far.

"Saw, this was a week ago. The last train on the Friday night, Westminster Station Now, this man gets into the last car." Howard explained as the video did show the man boarding and the train leaving the station.

"Car?" Molly questioned.

The man hung his head back, as if he was told the most annoying thing in the world. "They're _cars_ , not _carriages_." He emphasized at her. "It's a legacy of the early American involvement in the Tube system."

Molly turned and gave the two a look, as if she couldn't believe how obsessive this guy was to correct her. "He said he liked trains." Sherlock teasingly warned, getting Molly to bit back a laugh.

Howard got the next footage ready, the train arriving to a stop. "And the next stop is St. James Park Station and…" The footage revealed the doors opening, but no one leaving, not even the suited man seen in the last station.

Suddenly this captured Sherlock's interest, as he focused on the clip before him. The doors closed again as no one had left.

"Thought you'd like it." Howard brought back up the clip before on the first monitor. "He gets into the last car at Westminster. The only passenger." They looked back to the second clip, seeing not a single sign of life in the video or the train. Howard showed different camera angles proving no one was on that train.

"Explain that, Mr. Holmes."

"Couldn't he have just jumped off?" Molly asked.

Howard turned to her, "There's a safety mechanism that prevents the doors from opening in transit. But there's something else," he added. "The driver of that train hasn't been to work since."

Now that was interesting indeed. Helena crossed her arms, listening to Howard as intently as Sherlock was. "According to his flatmate, he's on holiday. Came into some money."

"Bought off." Sherlock and Helena both said, Sherlock looked to Molly for her input.

"Hmm?" She must not have been paying attention, Sherlock gave her this look as if disappointed she hadn't been listening and focused back to Howard. Molly glanced down, knowing she should've been listening than dazing into space.

"So the driver of the train was on it, then the passenger _did_ get off." He told.

"Question is where and why?" Helena pondered, tapping her knuckle to her chin.

"There's nowhere he could go." Howard told. "It's a straight run on the District Line between the two stations."

Helena frowned looking to Howard. "Not even a tunnel for emergency exit or anything?"

He shook his head, "There's not side tunnels, no maintenance tunnels. Nothing on any map. Nothing." Howard assured.

Maybe not his map, but Sherlock's map might. He turned to Helena, looking down at her. "Anything on that map of yours?"

Helena grimaced with a sigh. "No, I never took the Tube. So, wouldn't know. My only guess would be to search those stations to see myself."

"With the high security, and danger of those tracks, I wouldn't advise it." Howard told her.

She nodded with agreement, mouthing a 'sorry' to Sherlock.

"The train never stops and the man vanishes." Howard grinned at Sherlock. "Good, innit?"

"I know that face." Sherlock muttered, he thanked Howard and took his leave of his flat.

Molly and Helena eventually took lead to heading down the stairs of the building. But soon stopped when they found Sherlock not with them. Helena knew that look, stance, his whole demeanor screaming he was in his mind palace. Molly stepped up, but Helena stopped her. She gave a glance, as Helena's small smile said he would respond in a bit.

And in a bit he did.

"The journey between those stations usually takes five minutes. That journey took _ten_ minutes – ten minutes to get from Westminster to St James's Park." His eyes fell on the women at the bottom step. "So I'm going to need maps – lots of maps, older maps, all the maps."

Helena nodded, she'd get right on that.

Sherlock walked down passing the two. "Fancy some chips?" He offered them.

"What?" Molly questioned, never offered to do anything with Sherlock- especially lunch, dinner, meal. In fact nothing eating related since he never ate during his cases!

"I know a fantastic fish shop just off Marylebone Road. The owner always gives me extra portions." They walked around the next landing heading down the last flight of stairs.

"Did you get him off a murder charge?" Molly asked.

"No, helped him put up some shelves." He answered.

Molly lingered on the steps as she watched Sherlock and Helena get to the bottom. "Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" The two turned to her as she slowly made her way down. "What was today about?"

"Saying thank you." Sherlock honestly answered.

"For what?" She asked, confused.

Helena looked between the two as she bundled her coat up for the snow outside. "For everything you did for me," His eyes softened as they fell on Helena standing by the door ready to leave. "And Helena."

Molly reached the bottom, brushing off his gratitude. "It's okay, it's my pleasure."

"No. I meant it." She paused, looking up at him.

Molly shifted her footing. "I don't mean pleasure, I mean I don't mind." Feeling maybe her words were jumbled to responding to him. "I mean, I wanted to-"

"Moriarty slipped up, he made a mistake." He told, voice low for Helena not to hear as she was texting on her phone. No doubt talking to Dally at the moment. "Because the one person he thought didn't matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most. You made it all possible."

Sherlock took a breath, tilting his head. "But you can't do this again, can you?"

Sherlock knew this wasn't Molly's interest or job. She had a real job and she knew she could never replace John. Though she did have fun and got a glimpse of what working with Sherlock was like to Helena and John. But, it just wasn't for her and she knew that.

"I've had a lovely day. I'd love to, I just, um-"

"Congratulations, by the way." He said, looking down to see a small diamond engagement ring worn on her small finger.

She had moved on, and Molly was proud of herself to be able to. "He's not from work." She told, avoiding the gaze Sherlock presented her. Though he smiled when she looked up, genuine real smile. He was happy for her.

"We met through friends, the old-fashioned way. He's nice. We-we've got a dog, we-we go to the pub on weekends and he- I've met his mum and dad and his friends and all his family. I've no idea why I'm telling you this." She chuckled nervously, seeing she had ranted off at him.

But Sherlock didn't care. Sure, he would've shut her up and not mention the ring before unless it was a rude comment to her before. But, after all she had done to help him and protect those he loved, he was willing to let her ramble as much as she wanted.

"I hope you'll be very happy, Molly Hooper." He told her, Helena glanced over done texting on her phone. "After all, not all the men you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths." He joked.

"No?" She asked softly.

"No." Sherlock assured.

Helena watched as Sherlock smiled down at her. Though Molly felt he knew what he was going to do. She held a hand open to him, to give a polite shake. He was a bit taken back, but when her eyes darted to Helena's location he nodded. He shook her hand giving one more smile and nodded to her in thanks once more.

Helena smiled as Sherlock walked outside with her. The two walked down the walkways, he popped his collar as the snow fell gently onto the city of London. He tightened the coat around him and looked down as Helena took out the old faded scarf he once wore. She glanced up, finding him grinning down as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder walking down the road. Helena wrapped the old scarf around her neck and enjoyed the warmth Sherlock gave beside her.

Molly left the building, watching the couple walk side by side. She slipped on her gloves and adjusted her long scarf for the walk home.

"Are you still up for fish and chips?" Sherlock asked her.

Helena scoffed, "Do you even need to ask?" she joked.

"How's Dally?" He asked, arms securely around her shoulders as they took their time walking. It was growing dark, as Sherlock kept her close for her safety and warmth.

"She's good. She told me her essay got a good grade and she's doing well on the piano." Helena informed.

Sherlock's brows knotted, "Piano?" he questioned. "Not the violin."

Helena shook her head, "She felt frustrated with it and decided to go for the piano. Her favorite piece to play is, ah whats it called." she snapped her fingers trying to remember the name.

Sherlock allowed her to search on her phone for the music piece she mentioned. They silently walked to the chip shop, letting her take her time to find the song Dally liked. Once they entered, it had gotten dark as Sherlock got to ordering two servings of fish and chips to go.

"Ah, here it is!" Helena cheered, as Sherlock turned to her after paying. "Saint-Saens Danse Macabre, that's the song she's learning to play."

"By her choice?" Helena nodded at his question. His brows knotted, but rose up and he tilted his head. "Impressive. Although it sounds better on the violin."

Helena shoved his arm earning a smirk as she out her phone away. She heaved a sigh, shoving her hands into her coat pocket. "So, things are thick between you and John?"

"I could say the same to you." He retorted, earning an eye roll.

"John took his choice." She told him.

"Yes, and he took another choice with me." Sherlock sighed.

The sound of sizzling and things frying from the kitchen filled their silence. Helena thought back, and looked up at him, adjusting her glasses. "...You said he was on a date, right?"

"Hm-hmm." He hummed.

"Was the girl boring?" She asked.

Sherlock thought back on the woman, Mary. Boring isn't a word he would use, but interesting felt too far. She was different, that was for sure.

"I'd imagine she encouraged John to pound a few in you, yeah?" Helena asked, shaking her head.

"Actually, she was trying to calm him down." Sherlock countered, earning a look from her. "She said she would help him come around."

"Really?" Helena squeaked, with a higher pitch. "I don't believe it." She doubted, looking around the small shop. "If that were true, why didn't John contact you or come visit? Why didn't he ever call or check in. Why didn't he ever try!?"

Helena's voice rose in the final question, gaining looks from some customers. Sherlock had already been thrown out of three establishments and prefer to keep it as such. He stepped up to Helena, tilting his head to see the scowl in her features as she glared at the wall.

"Helena-"

"All ready to go!" Called the cook, placing the go to styrofoam containers in front of them.

Helena and Sherlock nodded in thanks and left to go back to the flat. The walk was silent, Helena kept the container close to help warm her hands. Sherlock resisted to ask for a few blocks before the cold snowy silent walk was eating at him.

"John never kept in contact?" Sherlock asked, wanting to figure out her recent release of anger in the shop. Helena shook her head, the detective frowned. Did his fake death cause the riff?

Reaching the flat, Helena stopped in front of the door looking to Sherlock. "Whatever happened back then, after you 'died', things changed for everyone. Be it both good and bad, it's the paths we choose."

She sighed, glancing down at the wet pavement before looking back up, The snow had finally stopped by now. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but Helena beat him to it. "John doesn't want us in our lives anymore. That's the end of it."

Helena opened the door to the flat, bounding up the steps wanting to eat her small dinner. Sherlock sighed, he expected some tiny changes- maybe. Only thing to change was Dally growing up. Instead, his friend and girlfriend hated each other and refused to try to sort things out. Last he checked, he was a detective, not a therapist.

He followed in, shutting the door behind him. He got up to the landing, seeing Helena remove her coat and go to town on her fish and chips at the coffee table. "Shall I get us a drink?" She asked, as Sherlock opened his container at the landing in front of the door, nodding.

As Helena stood and walked into the kitchen, they heard knocking on the door. Sherlock ignored it, assuming it was a client to which he would have to decline being so late at night.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson." A female voice greeted, though not in a happy tone. "Sorry, I think someone's got John- John Watson?"

Those words caught Sherlock's attention immediately. That voice, it was Mary, she sounded panicked as Mrs. Hudson questioned who she was down the stairs. Helena frowned in the kitchen hearing Mrs. Hudson's yelling, putting the lemonade down and approaching Sherlock.

"Mary?" He called, coming out of the room as Helena followed. "What's wrong?"

A short haired blonde woman came up the stairs in a hurry wearing a thick red coat. Helena took her in, seeing how she showed Sherlock a text on her phone. Helena then looked at her again, wait, _the_ Mary? The Mary John was at the dinner with?

"At first I thought it was just a Bible thing," She started, pulling up the text she received. "You know, spam, but it's not. It's a skip code."

Sherlock gave a short glance to Mary before reading the text. Sherlock red the words and deciphered the code. Helena just stood by like a traffic cone, not knowing what exactly was going on.

**Save souls Now!**   
**John or James Watson?**

"First word, then every third." Sherlock figured, "'Save John Watson'."

Helena felt her stomach sink, "Save John?" she questioned.

The next text was deciphered next.

**Saint or Sinner?**   
**James or John?**   
**The more is Less?**

"Now!" Sherlock dropped his food carelessly onto the floor and ran down the stairs. Helena and Mary followed after.

"Where are we going?" Mary asked, not knowing where John was.

"St. James The Less, its a church. Twenty minutes by car." Sherlock told, as he rushed outside.

Grasping the situation, Helena instantly mapped out a route and ran up to Sherlock. "I got a route that can get you there sooner."

"Not without a faster transportation." He denied, looking to Mary. "Did you drive here?"

"Er, yes!" Mary answered.

"It's too slow, it's too slow." Sherlock paced the road.

Helena got in front of him. "You know I can get there sooner, I'll take my route and-" She was about to run past him but he grabbed her arm.

"No" He barked, tugging her back and toward the walkway as a car came by blaring their own at the two. "You stay here, Mary and I will get to John."

Helena argued, getting her arm free from his grip. "You know you either high jack a motorbike or I go running on ahead!"

"You can barely see!" He yelled at her, making her fuming when he pointed that out. "Stay. Here." He demanded, stepping back into the road.

"What are you waiting for!?" Mary asked as another car swerved out from hitting Sherlock.

The motor humming its way toward them caught his attention. Well, motorbike it was. "This." He held a hand up, stopping the two on the motorbike before they could plow into Sherlock.

"I need this! It's an emergency! Police!" Sherlock barked out any excuse to get the bike from the two. Sherlock placed the driver's helmet on, and Mary followed with placing the second helmet on to join Sherlock.

"Helena!" He called, climbing onto the bike. "Do _not_ leave this flat. Is that clear?"

Before getting an answer, Mary climbed on behind him and the two rode off. The motor roaring down the street as the two bikers were a bit stunned by the possible loss of the bike.

Stay there? But, she couldn't just go with them? Why didn't Mary just follow in her car and she rode with Sherlock. Panic started to rise as she felt her distance with Sherlock grow farther. She didn't want to leave his side, she had to help. That was how Helena Shaw worked.

"No blindness is going to stop me." She hissed.

Helena ran across the street and started her way to shimmy up a drain pipe. She managed to get to the roof almost slipping once, but found her grip once she got on top. Her mind map laid out the route to the church she was familiar with. If she cross the city right, she might even beat Sherlock to the church.


	5. Chapter 5

The feeling of the adrenaline fueled her veins and pounding heart in her chest, it was almost new to her. Two years she's lived a mundane life and never had Helena thought she could find herself doing this again. Jumping rooftops and maneuvering through alleys. Helena had ignored her handicap of her sight and fully relied onto her Mind Map. She knew the distance of her jumps, the timing, and when to expect the landing. It was like watching Dally jump on her horse, she timed it and made the right position to prepare for the impact of lading.

All this was making her feel like that young homeless girl who ran from the police after stealing something. The good old days…

Her excitement came to a crushing end when she felt her footing miss a gap between building, falling into the alley. Her arms wildly waved as her scream erupted from her throat. Her hands thankfully found cold metal, almost slipping from the wet residue thanks to the recent snowfall. She tightened her grip, and swung her legs to hook into the lower bars. Helena clung herself onto the metal siding of the fire escape, as if a cat clinging to a tree branch.

That feeling of adrenaline no longer felt as great as now, her eyes shifted downward finding the cement below her, dumpster and trash bins below her. If the concrete below didn't kill her, for sure the bins and trash would cause more damage to her near impending fall. Her heart pounded but it hurt, out of fear instead of excitement. It was a mistake, she let her stubbornness take over proving Sherlock right- No surprise there.

Helena had to admit not to anyone but herself, times had changed drastically for her. Two years of being out of London, living in the country as a mother and waitress- The mundane life of a normal person.

No longer was she Hawkeye.

No longer did she parkour her way around the city.

No longer was she a homeless woman fighting to survive.

Helena Shaw was now just like everyone else, only worse.

She was a normal _blind_ person.

* * *

After that terrifying ordeal for Sherlock and Mary, John was saved from the deadly fire pit he was trapped in. Mary was with him at the hospital as he got his injuries looked at. Thankfully no burns, but some cuts and a head injury. Mary promised to keep him posted, knowing Sherlock was concerned for leaving Helena alone at the flat.

Sherlock arrived back at 221b feeling his heart rate finally calm down as he entered the threshold. Though it started to rise at the reminder than Helena was left here, not all alone of course as Mrs. Hudson was downstairs. Thought it looked dark up in the window when he pulled up, and no light was illuminating the hall as he walked up the stairs.

He found the place dark, pitch black as no lights were on. Some were shining through the windows from the street lights, but not enough to know if anyone was in the room. He switched a light on, finding the room indeed empty. Maybe Helena had gone to bed?

The detective removed his coat and scarf, careful of his steps as he tread lightly down the hall to his bedroom. He leaned against the frame, his long fingers gently gripping the doorknob as he twisted it and slowly pushed the door open. Just as dark in there, he leaned toward his lamp at the bedside and switched it on. His heart sank at the sight of the room completely empty, and panic rose in his chest.

After what had just happened to John, had someone taken Helena as well!?

Sherlock rushed back into the other room, grabbing his coat to find his cellphone to contact Lestrade. He was one button away when he heard the front door slam shut. He twisted as the footsteps echoed up the stairs, and some thudding indicated a step was missed. Sherlock knew that was Helena.

He walked over to the landing, finding Helena rubbing her knee at second landing. She tripped and her knee hit the step instead. She glanced up, continuing to walk as if she didn't see Sherlock. He stepped aside as she slowly shuffled into the room toward John's old chair and falling into it with a sigh. Sherlock stood there silently, watching her take a few steps, he saw she looked a tad ragged and some dirt was on the knees of her jeans. She breathed as evenly through her nose as possible, and noticed a tinge of a glare in her eyes as she stared off where his chair sat. Her figure shivered from being out in the recent cold, though she tried not to show it.

"Go on." She said, gaining his attention. "Tell me off." Helena sighed once more through her chapped lips.

"Tell you off over what?" He asked, closing the door and striding over to sit across from her.

Helena groaned, leaning onto her elbows, her gaze shifting to her wet shoes. "How I went off and ignored what you said. I could've gotten hurt, hit by a car, kidnapped- all that and more." She reached up and ruffled the wetness from her hair. He had noticed some snow melting on her coat and the faded old scarf he used to wear.

Sherlock moved to the edge of his seat, reaching over for her cold wet hand. He knew what had happened-

Helena tried to run along the roofs, and found herself stuck from near falling. She had no choice but to climb down and fell into a pile of shoveled snow, thankfully for her. She crawled out, and tripped almost falling into a dirty puddle at the curb as she made her way back.

The woman sat in the chair, as the cushion soaked in her wet clothes. She tried to hide the shiver in her bones and sniffled, not from a need to cry, but a possible cold reverberating in her system. Sherlock let her go and stood, walking toward the bathroom. Helena tilted her head towards the hall, hearing the shower turn on and Sherlock's light steps echoing back to her.

His hand rested on her elbow and back, encouraging her to stand. She did so, allowing him to remove the scarf and coat off her thin frame. He tossed it onto the couch and guided her down the hall, Helena saw the light shining in the bathroom. Entering she noticed Sherlock filling the tub with hot water, steam fogging up the mirror and her glasses. The room had felt warm alone, as she walked over feeling the hot water.

"Thanks, Sherlock." She told, turning to see him shut the door- him still in the room.

Sherlock said no word, as he walked up to her, removing her glasses from her face and placing them beside the sink. "If you don't remove those clothes and get warm, you'll catch a cold." He said, reaching down to the bottom of her shirt circling her waist.

Helena's face grew hot as she grabbed his hands and stepped back, near bumping into the tub. "I can get undress myself, Sherlock!" She defended, voice echoed in the small room. "Just... Go, uh, start a fire up or something. I'll get a bath- Thank you."

Her voice quivered, but stood firm to him. Sherlock didn't seem to realize what he was going to do. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Of course." He turned and left the room.

Helena leaned against the tub, sighing heavily as she felt her heart racing in her chest. Sherlock didn't seem phased at all at what he was about to do. He was in auto pilot for that, a function she didn't know he could be in. He's always aware of what he's doing, but at this point _he_ hadn't even realized it.

Deciding to not let the warm water get cold, Helena carefully removed her cold wet clothes. They dropped to the floor in a pile around her shoes, removing those and we wet soaks last. The shiver up her spin hit once she slid in slowly, sighing as her body accepted the warmth around her. Her hair dipped into the water, feeling the only coldness in her bones in her skull. With a breath, Helena dunked her head under the water and rose back up, feeling the warm water drip down her face and off the ends of her hair.

Sherlock was sure to be preparing to yell at her once she was done, tell how stupid she was, how she could've gotten hurt or killed. He had just gotten back from whatever happened to John-

Helena shot up in the tub, the water waved about as her head spun at the door. "Sherlock!?"

There was a pause, then she heard his footsteps approach the door. "Yes?" He called through.

"What happened to John? Is he okay?" She asked, leaning forward against the tub, gripping the edge.

"He's alright, I'll explain everything once you're done." He told, then after a few silent seconds he walked back down the hall.

Helena sighed heavily, resting her head on the edge and shaking it slowly. Deciding the warmth flooded her bones enough, Helena slowly and gently got out, drained the tub and wrapped up in a bathroom hung on the door. She tightly tied the blue robe around her frame and used a hanging towel to dry her hair best she could.

With one more sigh, Helena put her glasses on and shut the light off once she opened the door. Despite finding herself in darkness, she had memorized the flat to know to turn right down the hall and go through the kitchen to the sitting room. The fire was heard crackling, but the lights in the room helped her see Sherlock sitting in his chair just staring at the fire. With a dry swallow, she moved into the room and sat down across from him, tucking hair behind her ear she looked up at Sherlock.

"Okay, give it to me." She muttered, biting her inner cheek.

Sherlock's eyes shifted to her, his long fingers resting on his chin as he leaned back in his chair. "John had been taken, and with clues sent to us via text, we found him trapped in a burning bonfire."

Really expecting the scolding still, Helena's eyes went wide at the information given. "Someone tried to burn him alive?"

"The people at the event had no ill intention. In fact, they had no clue he was even there until we got there." He explained. "Mary is taking care of him right now, he's in good hands."

Helena nodded, tucking the robe to lift her legs and hug them. "Glad he's okay."

"Despite the row between you two?" Sherlock inquired.

Helena nodded, looking toward the fire. "I never wished for him to get hurt or killed, sure I'm still mad. But, I don't want anything bad to happen to him."

Sherlock nodded, sighing which was a rare thing for the man to do. Helena glanced at him, when was he going to get to the point?

"I'm not cross with you." He started, the two locking eyes finally. "Worried. Scared, even. I thought someone had come and taken you like John, but hearing you arrive made those thoughts die down."

"Sherlock-"

The man stood and took a few steps leaning over the chair, pressing his lips to hers in a short kiss. Her face was warm, still not used to how forward Sherlock had become. His blue eyes gazing down at her, his hand reaching over hers.

"I love you, Helena Shaw. I-I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you." She felt his fingers tangled with hers as his other hand cupped her cheek. "I know you; you're expecting me to yell and call you stupid, how moronic it was for going off like that. But, I won't."

His thumb rubbed her cheek bone, she instinctively leaned into his touch. His long fingers reaching the fringes of her hair line by her ear sending chills down her spine. "I love you, Sherlock. I just- I really thought I could do it. But- I was wrong, those days are behind me."

Her head tried to duck down, feeling shame rising in her chest. His hand rose up now cupping her face, refusing to let her gaze break from his. "I'm sorry." He whispered, eyes full of sorrow and guilt. As if it was his fault her sight was going, her need and want to explore the city like the old days was his fault.

"Sherlock-"

"I brought you back into this," He said. "I gave you the false hope that everything would go back to normal, but not everything can." His eyes fell toward her right eye, seeing the small dark stain in her eye. "Not everything can be-"

Helena cut him off. "Sherlock, Sherlock!" Her hands rose to take his, gripping them. "Do you think that running around this bloody city is all I care about?"

She moved to stand, he stepped back allowing her to stand before him. The light of the fire danced upon their faces as it crackled in the night. Helena kissed his knuckles and smiled up at him.

"Just seeing you again, that's enough for me. I thought the last time I'd see you was on that roof. But here you are standing before me." Despite the sting it caused, her eyes teared up. She blinked, smiling against the pain as they fell down her cheeks.

"Sherlock Holmes, I'd rather lose my sight if it means being with you again. If that's what it takes, then so be it."

The tall man bit his cheek, wrapped his arms around her and held her close. It hurt to hear her say that, feeling her arms hug him tightly, gripping the back of his blazer. He couldn't let her lose her sight, he frowned as he felt her snuggled into his arms, sniffling against him. His hands skimmed over her back in means to comfort her.

Sherlock Holmes would fix her.

* * *

The next morning rose to her in a blur. She hummed, turning in the nice warm bed of Sherlock Holmes. How could he not stay in this bed when it was so comfy and warm? Even before she started finding this bed as a place to sleep, he never really slept in it.

Helena rolled over and snuggled into the pillow, she winced and sat up rubbing her eyes. "Eye drops." She mumbled, reaching the bedside, but only found her glasses, clock, and lamp.

Squinting at her memory, Helena forgot she left them in the bathroom. She sat up, feeling a chill in the air as the blanket fell off her figure. Helena shuffled to her suitcase at the end of the bed, pulling a dark blue hoodie on and letting the hood rest over her head. With a sigh, she moved to the bathroom door and found her glasses on the sink. After wiping them clean of any smudges from yesterday she put them on, feeling her vision slightly improve. Be it true or a placebo effect, she didn't know. Her eyes scanned around the bathroom trying to find the eye drops- nowhere in sight.

Helena groaned, were they in the _other_ room? She peeked back into the bedroom and saw the clock read it was the AM, so it was still morning as the sounds of life were heard outside. Voices. It wasn't that she wanted to go back to bed or just sleep into the afternoon, but she didn't want to interrupt whatever clients Sherlock was talking to.

Though the longer she'd wait, the more her eyes would hurt. She wouldn't be able to wait, and would have to search for the eye drops. Another sigh escaped her lips. Well, Helena had a doctor's appointment later today, she may as well get dressed.

Helena stripped off her sleepwear and fished through her suitcase to put on a maroon jumper and dark jeans. With her shoes slipped on, Helena exited the bedroom and walked into the kitchen hearing a woman talking endlessly with a man adding into the 'conversation' from time to time. She peeked in spotting Sherlock sitting in his chair, he looked tense and inpatient. His head was bowing down until he jerked it up, was he falling asleep? He might not have had a good sleep last night, a hint of guilt knocking at the back of her head.

Squinting her eyes she could see the eye drops on the table beside him as he steepled his fingers looking forward. Sherlock then saw her, brows furrowing to see her about to enter the room. He gave a side glance to whoever was talking and gently shook his head at him, telling her no. She paused, frowning at his actions. His head tilted to the side, questioning if she needed anything. Helena pointed to her eyes, then to his left. Sherlock glanced down and spotted the small bottle of her eye drops. He held a finger and stood, buttoning his blazer and marching toward the other end of the room. Sherlock never usually never kept her from seeing clients, what made this one different?

"So did you find it eventually, your lottery ticket?" He asked, sounding uninterested but enough to amuse the woman.

Thinking nothing of it, Helena went to work making herself a small breakfast. She didn't try to be quiet until the clang of the cooking pan hit the stove top when she heard the woman's ranting come to a pause.

"Is someone else here?" She asked. "Have visitors over?"

Sherlock dismissed it, "Hearing things. Must be the landlady." he told her.

Weird. Sherlock was really keeping her out of the radar this time. Curiosity got the better of her, and she peeked around the corner of the hall looking into the room. An older couple sat on the sofa, with Sherlock standing between them on said sofa. Helena noticed unlike most clients, they didn't seem to be deterred by his nonsense. The woman continued away about the tickets and the man sat there watching Sherlock who was checking over his investigation pinned to the wall.

Helena was so intrigued she hadn't noticed footsteps up the stairs. Suddenly John Watson came into her view, making her jump back. The two shared a look, him not expecting to see her at all, and vice versa. Well, just as Sherlock said, he was in one piece besides the scrapes and cuts on his face.

"Erm, Hi, Hele-"

She didn't even let him finish, as she turned away and returned to the kitchen. She held her breath, waiting for him to follow her, but hearing Sherlock say his name made her sigh. She leaned on the counter and sighed, taking her glasses off to rub her eyes. Helena could hear Sherlock ushering the two out, placing her glasses back while watching John wander the flat and keeping his sights out of the kitchen. Possibly feeling the same idea to not talk to her now. Eventually the two left and Sherlock gave an apology to John.

"No, it's fine." John assured. "Clients?"

Sherlock hesitated, but finally answered walking toward the kitchen. "Just my parents." He peeked in for a second, "You can come out Helena, apologies."

"Your parents?" John and Helena both questioned.

"In town for a few days." He told them.

John was still in shock, as was Helena. "Your parents?"

"Actually Mum and Dad?" Helena added, removing the hood off her head.

"Mycroft promised to take them to a matinee of "Les Mis". Tried to talk me into doing it." Sherlock vented, not needing to go through such hell.

John moved to the window, seeing the pair climb into a called cab. "Those were your parents."

"Not adopted, as in, birth _real_ parents?" Helena questioned.

"Yes." Sherlock answered, watching them both.

"Well," John chuckled, "That is not what I expected."

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"I-I mean they're just so…" He looked to Helena then to Sherlock. "Ordinary."

Helena nodded, "They mostly talked about… Normal everyday things." she added.

Sherlock folded his hands behind his back, taking a breath, "It is a cross I must bear." he sighed.

The two chuckled, but soon stopped once they caught each other's eyes. Sherlock frowned at the sight of his best mate and girlfriend in this situation. Helena got her eye drops and removed her glasses to put them in. John looked around the flat again, giving himself space from her.

"Did they know, too?" He asked.

Sherlock just looked down at his laptop, humming in response.

"That you spend the last two years playing hide and seek." Helena frowned, eyes closed as she let the eye drops settle in.

Sherlock tried to distract himself by moving some dust off his laptop. "Maybe." He muttered.

"Ah!" John snapped his fingers. "So _that's_ why they weren't at the funeral."

Sherlock snapped his head up, " _Sorry_. Sorry, again." he apologized frantically.

John just hummed when Helena finally opened her eyes and placed her glasses back on. "John, leave him alone. If he's said sorry, he's sorry."

Sherlock watched as John turned toward her. "If he was truly sorry-"

"He is! How much more do you want?" She snapped at him, glaring. "Want him to kiss the ground you walk upon or grovel at your knees?"

He glared back at her, pointing a finger at her. "Helena, he put us through two years of thinking he was dead."

Helena nodded, "You don't have to remind me John, _I_ suffered too! So did Dally!" she barked.

Sherlock stepped over, not expecting this if the two saw each other. Never had they fought, argued, or even yelled at one another. How was he to expel this fight?

"Oh, does Dally know yet? That her father is back from the dead?" John questioned. "Did Sherlock phone her in or send a text?"

Despite the stinging in her eyes and a headache rising, Helena glared sharply at him. "That is none of your business." She growled. "You lost that privilege when you cut connections from us."

"Yes, and whose fault is that, Helena?" He motioned toward Sherlock.

She stepped up and shoving his shoulder. "You can blame yourself." Helena pointed a finger at Sherlock, making him step back, regretting to even get near them. "You think he needs to keep apologizing, but you're no better _Watson_!"

Helena grabbed her coat and bag, stomping down the stairs. A loud slam was heard, Sherlock tensed and looked out the window seeing Helena marching down the street with her coat on. He sighed and glanced to John, who sighed deeply himself, regretting that.

Sherlock cleared his throat, stepping from the window. "See you've shaved it off." He noticed, the ghastly mustache finally gone.

"Yeah."

* * *

Despite the chilling cold winds, Dally worked hard to get Osiris to test his speed. They had done enough jumps the past few days and wanted some running in for the horse. Charlie was helping by timing them, Dally wanting to beat each time she got a better clock in. They were going until Henry would arrive to pick her up, which Charlie was glad he was a tad late today.

"Wow, running in circles." Charlie sighed, hearing the annoying voice behind him. "Looks like a load of fun to me. _Lame_!"

Charlie turned to him as Dally rode by. "It's not lame at all, Michael. Get your head out of your ass."

Michael raised a brow, "Starting to get a little tough aren't you?" he grabbed his cousin into a headlock and grind his knuckles into his skull. "Trying to show off to your girlfriend?"

"Michael! Stop that- Ow! That hurts!" Charlie whined, smacking his arm.

The teen just laughed until he earned a kick to the elbow, letting Charlie go. "Stop being a jerk." Dally told, pulling Osiris up to the gate as she glared down at him.

Michael gave a look to the girl. "Ooh, a girl is fighting your battles for you?" He laughed making Charlie blush red. "How lame are you?"

"So what if I fight his battles? My mum has done it loads of time." Michael glared up at her. "You're the one that's lame, Michael."

The teen growled and kicked the fence post, marching off grumbling to himself. Dally scoffed, "You sure you'll survive Canada with him?"

Charlie sighed, rubbing his head. "I hope so, wish I was staying here honestly."

Dally directed Osiris to the pen as he opened the gate for her to lead the horse to the stables. "When does your mom get back?" He asked Dally.

She removed the reins as he helped her with the saddle. "She was supposed to come back tomorrow, but had to extend it a few more." Dally patted Osiris' neck and got her the bag of oats.

Charlie nodded watching her care for the horse. "I was thinking, we could exchange numbers to text?" She glanced at him, his pale cheeks flushed pink. "You know, when I head to Canada. I'll-" He coughed and rubbed his neck. "I'll need something to keep me from losing my mind stuck in a holiday nightmare with Michael."

Dally giggled making him blush harder. "Charlie, you know I don't have a mobile phone." She took his hand removing his glove and got a marker off the chart on the wall. "But, here's my email."

Sound old fashion, but he completely forgot Dally wasn't all that tech savvy compared to him or other kids their age. He felt the tingle sensation up his arm as she let go. The sound of a car giving a few beeps outside in the parking lot, Henry arrived.

Taking her backpack hanging on the hook by Osiris' stable, she passed by Charlie. "Email me tonight to make sure it gets through!" Dally called, heading toward the lot.

"...Sure." Charlie squeaked, staring at his hand.

Dally waved at Henry in the car, he waved back as she opened the trunk and tossed her bag in. With a gentle slam, she rounded to the side and climbed into the passenger seat. "Hi, Henry!"

"Hey, have a good day?" He asked, making sure she buckled her seat belt.

Dally nodded with a cheerful hum. "Sure did!"

Henry backed out of the parking lot as Dally reached over to press scan on the radio. She usually just listened to the station scanned through until a song she liked started playing. "I thought we'd eat at the inn tonight, get out of the house." Henry offered as he drove.

" _In recent news, trending wildly on Twitter and other social Media, #Sherlock-"_ The station was scanned past, but didn't seem to give it much mind.

"Has mum called today?" She asked, looking out the window.

Henry shook his head, "Not yet, Helena said she would after her appointment."

Dally turned to him. "How do you think it'll go?"

Hesitant in an answer, he just shrugged. "Don't know. Probably give her new glasses and refill on her eye drops. She mentioned being low before leaving."

" _Despite all the news on social media, he has been keeping out of the spotlight. Sherlock-"_

"What do you want to order at the inn?" Henry asked her.

Dally shrugged. "Do they still only sell vegetarian meals?" Henry nodded, earning a groan from her. "I might order a soup or sandwich."

"It's good to take a break from meat now and then." He tried to encourage.

"Try saying that to my eight year old self." She laughed.

" _If you want to keep yourself updated, check for tags under #SherlockLives on social media."_

The car came to a sudden halt, the brakes screeching on the thankfully empty road. The two stared at the radio with shock, Dally turned the radio up.

"Did I hear that right?" Dally questioned, then started checking through the stations to hear a different news station.

Henry raised a hand to his forehead as he silently let Dally frantically scan the stations.

" _Sherlock Lives! That is what the news is on about for the past few days. People have confirmed as he is continuing his work at 221b Baker Street. The real question is, how did he survive or fake his own death two years ago?"_

Fake death? Alive? Back to work? Dally started to feel her breathing become heavy, soon delving into hyperventilating. Henry attempted to calm her down, rolling down the window and driving the car to the side of the road. Anyway to get her fresh air to calm down. When her breathing relaxed enough, she spotted Henry's phone on the dashboard and grabbed it, dashing out of the car. She rounded to the back as Henry struggled with his seat belt. Dally went into the search site and looked up the tag on the radio, #Sherlocklives.

"Dally-"

"He's alive." She muttered, hand over her mouth as eyes teared up as she stared at the screen. Photos, posts, even video clips of her father walking around London. "My dad's alive!"


	6. Chapter 6

Helena was still cross over her argument with John, but her fuming marching down the street had shifted to a hunched saunter. Knowing Sherlock, he was toying John to getting back into cases with him, and she wanted to be as far from that as possible- Far from John, that is.  
  


Her appointment went well, or as well as a blind person could go. She was informed of her sight getting worse, which she was numb to at this point as being told for two years does that to a person. Helena got a new eye drop prescription, with a strength to help the pain and dryness they were recently causing. He did ask if she would need new glasses to which she declined. Helena didn't see the point, why waste money on glasses when she’ll soon only be able to use one lens? He didn't push it and let her go.  
  


For now, all Helena wanted was to pick up her prescription and find some lunch. It had been noon, or past noon at this point as she stopped at a crosswalk awaiting with other people to cross at the light. She tilted her head to see the light across the way with her good eye, once green, Helena following the crowd to cross the road.  
  


“Excuse me!”  
  


Helena got to the curb, feeling her shoulder bump and shove, turning to go against the coming crowds. Sure was busy today.  
  


“Pardon me- Sorry. Helena!”  
  


The auburn haired woman stopped, turning to see a blond familiar woman jogging towards her. She had only seen the woman once, but knew her right away. “Mary, right?”  
  


She beamed at her, glad Helena remembered her. “Yes, Mary Morstan.” She held a hand out, to which Helena gently took with a soft shake.  
  


“Helena Shaw.” She properly introduced, retracting her hand. “Oh, are you looking for John?” Helena asked.  
  


Mary stepped to the side to avoid being bumped, she noticed Helena didn't flinch as she was shoved a few times in her blind spot. “No, he told me he was seeing Sherlock. I saw you in the crowd and wanted to introduce myself, and thank you for helping save John.”  
  


Helena raised an amused brow. “You’re welcome, though I played no part in helping, sadly. I just…” She shrugged. “Stayed and waited.”  
  


Mary gave a kind smile, her white teeth glimmering in the rare sun. “You still cared, and I still thank you.”  
  


Helena rubbed her neck, rarely did people thank her for such things. During cases Sherlock had all the unwanted glory and thanks for saving people, solving murders, and stopping kidnappings. But, never did the appreciation fall to her direction.  
  


“Say- you wouldn’t happen to have some time for a bit of lunch, would you? Get to know each other- Or, really I know a lot about you.” Mary said with a giggle.

“Oh? John talk about me?” Helena asked.

Mary shook her head, Helena wasn’t surprised. “I read about you from his blogs, how you ran the rooftops, protected the homeless, and even risked your life for him and Sherlock during cases.”

Cheeks were growing warm, Helena coughed into her fist and cleared her throat. “That so? If I didn't know any better, I’d assume you were a fan.” She joked.

Mary laughed, “May as well be!” she replied. “If you’re up for that lunch-”

“Oh, sure!” She answered, though felt the prescription paper in her coat pocket. “I just need to head to the drug store to pick something up. If you don’t mind joining, we can find lunch after.”

“Sounds perfect to me!” Mary grinned. She looped an arm around Helena’s arm, as if ready to go for a Sunday stroll. Caught off guard, Helena hesitated before the two walked down the street toward the nearest drug store Helena knew.

Many women Helena remembered John dated were vastly different to Mary. They were jealous of his time and attention put towards the cases and Sherlock. Expecting John’s attention 110%. Though to be fair, even he got some of the girls confused with others he dated.

Mary was a cute, cheery person, perfect for the personality John held at times. She was optimistic, charming, and told lovely jokes now and again. Though despite the energy illuminating from the blond, Helena felt near rigid and nervous, feeling a near sweat come on under her coat. She hadn’t ever been this close to a person, let alone another woman. 

Sure, Mrs. Hudson gave hugs, but she was always a motherly figure to her. Dally was her daughter, so she hugged, carried, and kissed her cheeks. Molly was like herself, keeping her own personal bubble from people, a tad awkward, but a good friend who offered her shoulder to whoever needed it. Mary wasn't intrusive to say the least, the vibe she gave off was friendly.

All her time on the streets, Helena had seen giddy teenage girls walking from school. Arms looped like hers was now, giggling and laughing, ignoring looks from others how loud they were and such. Even in her teen years, she never had many friends, and any past friends she could think of were consistently male! Trevor, John, Sherlock, Henry, Mycroft, Ferry.

All. Male.

Helena, in her entire life, never had a bestie, a girlfriend, a BFF. 

  
  


Helena’s phone showed no messages from either Sherlock nor Henry. She had talked to Dally yesterday, maybe she was busy with her horse, hanging out with Charlie, or doing school work. Sherlock was on his case, but no messages meant she wasn’t needed.

Having gotten her eye drops, she placed them in feeling them start to sting and left with Mary to get lunch. Mary had mentioned a new cake shop that had opened up she always wanted to go to. Helena let her lead the way, not being in London for two years, some new shops were unknown to her. But, she would surely add them to her map either way.

“Are you expecting a call?” Mary asked, returning with two small plates. Mary’s had a sticky toffee pudding, while, per request, got Helena a Victoria sponge cake.

Helena shook her head, placing the phone to the side, face down. “Just checking if Sherlock texted. He’s out his case, possibly with John.”

“I do hope so.” Mary chided, taking her silver fork and gently tearing a piece of her toffee to take a bite. “John may have seemed extremely upset with Sherlock’s return, but I see he is deep down inside, thankful.”

“So am I.” Helena agreed, doing the same for her sponge cake, savoring the sweet raspberry jam. “To be glad, of course. Not attempting to shove him back into his grave.” She joked, Mary chuckled. “How long have you been with John, if I may ask?”

Mery smiled, taking a second bite. “Ohh, we met about maybe half a year or so after Sherlock’s ‘death’.” She told, tapping her fork against the plate a few times. “He was different then, but now he’s so much happier. Got a job in the same clinic as me, “ She patted her chest, “Nurse.” Helena nodded.

“We live in a nice flat together, walk to work, have lunch, walk back, have dinner.” Mary sighed, a smile that claimed her in love as she thought of her day with the man. “Best thing to ever happen to me.”

Helena chewed her lip, not nodded with a smile. “Probably the best thing for him too.”

Suffer. Suffer he said. While she was raising Dally with only the help of Henry, her sight leaving her, and just lost someone she loved; John had been playing Casanova here with this sweet woman. At least he had someone to comfort him, to show they cared and to hold him. 

Helena? She slept in an empty bed, crying herself nearly every night for an entire year before finally letting go. Struggling to adjust the life of a mother- _single_ mother, living with a handicap, and staying somewhere she wasn’t all that familiar with compared to London.

Suffer my arse, she thought.

“But enough about John.” Mary scooted her chair closer to Helena around the tiny table. The remains of her toffee Helena just just noticed now only crumbs, gently moved to the side. Her attention was completely on the nervous once homeless woman. “Tell me about Dally?”

Her brows went up, “Dally?”

“She’s barely mentioned in the blogs John wrote. A tither and hither there, but nothing else.” She patted Helena’s arm. “I adore children- Will she be coming back to London as well?”

The smile faded from Helena as she poked her cake, finding it less interesting to eat now. “I honestly don’t know.” Mary watched her place the fork down and lean back, folding her arms. “She doesn’t know he’s alive yet, all matters how well she’ll handle that news.”

Mary leaned forward, arms resting on the table. “I am sorry for what you and her had gone through.” She was earnest in her words, giving a soft caring smile. “John spoke a lot about Dally, how she came to be in your lives- Including the amazing heartfelt tale of Sherlock adopting her. Brought me to tears.”

She let out a soft laugh, earning a smile from Helena, the memory forever in her mind. “If anyone knew better, one could instantly assume she was his biological daughter.” Her tongue skimmed her lips, taking a small bite to not waste the cake Mary had offered to pay for. 

“Oh!” Helena took her phone, her slender finger skimming through the screen and then handed it to Mary.

Taking the phone, Mary grinning widely at the screen, a photo of Dally recently taken last month. She was standing by Osiris, feeding her some oats in her flat palm. The horse’s tongue had tickled her, making her give a bright contagious smile at the camera.

“I agree!” Mary cheered, Helena reached for her lemon water. “If I hadn’t known, I would’ve assumed she was born from you and Sherlock!”

Helena grabbed a napkin, coughing into her cup as she choked at the notion Mary just made. “Oh, God-” She coughed, trying to laugh away her embarrassment. Mary saw no harm, making her giggle at Helena’s reaction. “No, no, I assure-” She cleared her throat, patting her chest. “Adopted, I swear. Sherlock and I-” She shook her head.

Then, Mary got giddy. She shuffled closer, playing her phone back within Helena’s reach. That grin, a grin of mischievous curiosity. “Really? Never?” 

Helena paused, wiping her chin of any drippings from her episode. “Uh, yes. I’m pretty sure.” She tossed the napkin onto her plate. “Sherlock isn’t the type of guy to... Yknow.”

She waved her hands about, seeing the sly grin on Mary’s features she groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her head bowed down to hide the red in her face. Why was this such an awkward subject for her? Helena used to do business of sex, selling her body to live another day.

“I’m sorry if it’s too personal.” Mary told, patting Helena’s arm. “I don’t have many girl friends to have a gossip group around here. There’s only so much to talk to John about.”

Helena looked up, nodding. “No, I understand. I was the same when I was with them. I had Mrs. Hudson, but she’s more of a mother to me than anything. Dally’s just a kid, smart, but not much to talk with her about. Molly… She’s a different story of her own.” She laughed.

“Sounds like we both need a Chatty Kathy in our life?” Mary offered, a soft smile still plastered. “Also, hoping you would be able to come to our wedding-”

Near choking on her own tongue, she blinked her eyes rapidly as her brain repeated what her ears had heard. Wedding? What wedding? There’s a wedding now?

“A-Are you okay?” Mary asked, reaching for a second napkin.

Helena nodded, taking a breath. “Just, caught me off guard, is all. Sorry- Wedding?”

“Oh, had John not mentioned anything?”

Helena shrugged, tossing the napkin onto her plate. “Well, it's hard to bring up the subject when we’re yelling at each other.” She sighed, resting her arms over the table. “I- Er… I just…” Helena stammered, clearing her throat and taking a sip of her drink. “Sorry- I just, never been to a wedding.”

“Never had a family wedding?” She shook her head. “Friends?” Shook her head. “...Siblings?”

Helena took a breath. “Not really talkative to my family, never went to any weddings as a kid. My younger brother, as far as I know, hasn’t married yet. And… My only friends were single until now.” She did shrug at a thought. “Though Molly is engaged, who knows when that’ll happen, knowing her.”

Mary smiled, “Well, all the same. I’d love for you to come!” she told. “I have no doubt John will invite Sherlock, so it’d be cute to see you two there!” She gasped, gripping Helena’s arm. “Dally is invited as well! Oh, I’m so excited to meet her!”

Helena smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. Wedding. That involved dressing up, hair done, make up on. AKA: Looking beautiful. Helena glanced out the window, her eyes finding herself in its reflection. Her pale complexion, dark auburn hair- A bit of a mess making her reach a hand up to part it properly. The thick bangs near stuck out to the side, she hadn’t even thought of how she looked when she left the flat today. Actually, she never really cared how she looked. So long as she was decent enough. Her eyes staring at themselves, her hand moving down to her lap. It was a sore sight- literally. Seeing the dark patch in her right eye. It was disgusting. Who would want to see that?

She was… Not beautiful.

“When’s the wedding?” Helena asked, masking her emotions beforehand. “I’d imagine sometime soon?”

“Good Heavens, no!” She laughed. “He only proposed to me.. Well, tried to the night Sherlock returned.”

Helena perked up. “Wait, are you telling me Sherlock interrupted _that_ dinner? John was going to propose- Oh, Lord!” She laughed, slapping her hand on the table. Soon Mary laughed with her, covering her mouth.

Once composed enough, Helena removed her glasses to dab her eyes. “Oh, That- Now _that_ is beyond typical of Sherlock.” She slid her lenses back on, pushing them up her nose. “But, um, congrats either way!”

  
  


Helena enjoyed her time with Mary, returning to the flat to find no Sherlock nor John in the upper floor. Mrs. Hudson was in her kitchen baking someone, but was on the phone so she let her be. Up in the flat, Helena removed her coat and wandered into the bathroom to place her eye drops by the sink. Making sure not to forget where they were. Her eyes caught herself in the mirror, seeing a better reflection of herself, but saw the same one as the window showed her. Pale, thick messy hair, and the worst eyes anyone could have. She was a sight, worse for sure than when she was living homeless. She didn't want to think how bad her teeth looked, despite her tongue feeling around for any cracked or crooked ones. 

Helena gave her teeth a brush feeling self conscious and washed her face for good measure. Mary was a very beautiful woman. Perfect complexion, bright blonde hair, perfect teeth- Hell, her accent even sounded better. She sounded like a beautiful woman, her tone smooth as silk and smile bright as the sun.

A smile was given to her reflection, but she felt stupid to even do so and let her lips close and drop. Taking a few steps back, she turned her body this way and that to look at her figure. She used to be extremely lean and skinny when she first met Sherlock. Since then, she has gotten a bit heftier? Her hips look wider, arms look bigger, even her cheeks look chubbier.

Had she always looked this way? Why didn't Sherlock say anything? He has before commented on her appearance before, Molly, Mrs. Hudson. Hell, even John wasn’t safe from his wrath of nit picking one's appearance. He would have mentioned the weight she put on, the nasty chop of her hair cut, or the fact her eyes looked…

Helena left the bathroom and plopped onto the couch in the main room. A sigh escaped her lips two- Three times before she lounged across with a fourth sigh. Checking her phone, Helena still saw no text, growing concerned she reached for the remote and checked the news for any outlets of murder, crimes or just Sherlock in general. She ended up finding herself watching really crappy game shows, near yelling at a few morons at the screen.

It wasn’t until night time had fallen -she thought so until she checked her phone, confirming it being 6pm- that she grew hungry. Helena thought; see what's to cook or order in?

The kitchen she checked through had some items to make a sandwich, but she was starting to crave Thai food at this point. Helena found the menus Sherlock used to keep in a top drawer and filtered through. Picking the third menu, she wandered to the couch to get her phone to text Sherlock she was ordering out. But her eyes caught herself one more time, the mirror above the mantle showed her reflection, and what she saw. Wide, chubby Helena staring right back at her. Her excitement for some Tom Yum Goong or Pad Thai with shrimp. Her shoulders sagged as she sent a quick text to Sherlock and looked for low carb salads on the paper.

  
  


After the food arrived, it was about ten minutes she heard the door open and close down the stairs. She only heard the foot falls of one person, sighing to herself that John hadn’t returned with him.

“Eating without me?”

Helena turned and smiled at Sherlock’s wide grin at her. He stepped toward her to plant a kiss on her head and removed his coat. “You’re in an excellent mood. Solve the case?”

“Of course,” He waved off, hanging his coat and scarf behind the door. He shut it promptly, letting her know he was in for the night. “John finally forgave me, albeit took some effort on my part.”

Helena tilted her head at him, “What did you do?” She asked, the tone of a mother she had adopted thanks to Dally.

Sherlock took his container of Pad Siew with a fork and sat down beside her. “You know how the case involved a terrorist attack?”

Helena nodded, turning in her seat to give Sherlock her full attention. “Yeah, I actually checked the news if I could see anything on it.” Until she got caught up on two hours of game shows.

“They were going to attack Parliament.” Her eyes went wide for him to continue.

Sherlock went on explaining the entire case in every detail, including how the man from the train disappeared and where the bomb was kept; underground below Parliament. His grin returned as he ate when he explained how John forgave him. Helena found it cruel, but her chuckle betrayed her opinion on the matter. Pretending to not know how to defuse a bomb just to get John to forgive him, cruel but… It worked.

Sherlock got up to get a drink, offering her one. “Water.” She called as he returned with a bottle of water for both of them.

“How was your appointment?” He asked, sipping his water as he sat back down.

“The usual. ‘You’re eyes are getting worse, my dear’.” She told, imitating the doctor’s low baritone. “No shit, I noticed.” She saw Sherlock unable to match her amusement, Helena patting his arm. “It was fine, I got new eye drops and had lunch with Mary.”

Sherlock’s brows knotted. “Mary Morstan?”

Helena nodded. “She’s really sweet. I mean, not Molly sweet. Like, over the top, ‘bestie’ sweet.” She chuckled.

“Did she come here?” He asked.

“She spotted me on my way to pick up my eye drops. Said my hair stood out.” Helena reached up, matting her hair down possibly the tenth time since she got to the flat. “She invited me out to lunch- Did you know she’s marrying John?”

“As a matter of fact-”

“You interrupted the night he was going to propose!” She laughed, earning a nod from him. “If I still wasn’t cross at him, I’d feel bad for John.”

Sherlock’s tongue skimmed his lips as he put his drink down next to his empty container. “How long do you intend to have this go on for, Helena?”

Her brows went up. “How long do I? Here he was getting comfort and love from someone while I was alone having to raise Dally. John had someone to go to bed to and wake up with him. I…” Helena looked away and hunched over, resting her arms on her knees.

Sherlock took a breath, scooting over to wrap an arm around her. He leaned back as she rested her head on his shoulder, his finger tips skim her arm. “I’m truly sorry, Helena.”

“I’ve already forgiven you, Sherlock. I don’t mean to remind you of it all.” She muttered, moving her arm to wrap around his waist under his blazer.

He sighed and rested his head on her own. “It pained me to leave you and Dally. I’ll make up the time I lost with you,” He kissed her head, nuzzling into her hair. “Both of you.”

Helena smiled to herself, closing her eyes as she nestled into his side. She had noted before Sherlock was more physical into showing affection. Maybe it was how much he missed her, or as he stated, the two years he missed being with her. She didn't complain, being in his warm arms now was all that mattered to her.

“So, now that the case has been solved.” Sherlock spoke, she looked up at him as he glanced down at her. “Shall we plan Dally’s trip back to London?”

Helena’s smile faltered, lifting herself a bit off him. “Sherlock, we should take this delicately with Dally. Maybe you and I should head to Henry’s and see how she handles it first.”

“Do you believe she’ll do as bad of an attempt to hurt me as John did?” He questioned with amusement.

She shrugged, “I don’t think she’d go that far.” her hands moved up his chest and rested over his shoulder. “Sherlock, she’s taken a new life out there. Thankfully she’s adjusted better than I have. Let’s take it slow.”

Helena reached up pecking his lips, smiling at him. Sherlock sighed through his nostrils but nodded to her. His blue electric eyes lingered on her, moving to her lips as he inclined his head to press a deeper kiss to her. Helena tilted her head, moving her hands to the back of his head, her fingers splitting through his dark curls. His own hand shifted from her shoulder down to her waist, she felt his long fingers splay her waist and hips-

Helena suddenly pulled back, jolting Sherlock as she stood. “I’ll get these cleaned up!” She grabbed the containers with haste and moved to the kitchen. 

The detective blinked to register what just happened, not from his actions but Helena’s. He heard the plastic clatter into the sink and water running. Was she… washing the containers? He stood and peeked into the kitchen, yup, she was cleaning them as if they were her own dishes. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he felt his phone and took it out finding a text from Lestrade. Something about media appearance, he texted back now focused on his phone.

Helena peered behind her, seeing Sherlock sit at his desk, phone in hand and opening his laptop. Her eyes roved down her body, hands skimming her hips feeling the curves. Had they always been this curvy? Her hips looked wider as she looked down, making her groan in frustration and realize she was scrubbing plastic lids. With a shake of her head, Helena just rinsed the suds and placed them onto the dry rack. She’d toss them into the recycle bin tomorrow.

  
  


According to the texting between Lestrade and Sherlock, he would be making his official return November 7th, two days after he had sabotaged the attempted terrorist attack on Parliament. Helena was nervous at first, but he assured she didn't have to be there for the cameras and just stay in the flat. She agreed, not wanting media attention on herself right now. Hawkeye was no longer there, she was retired. For good.

It became a big celebration, not only for Sherlock’s official return, but also Mary and John’s engagement. Lestrade, Mary, and John had come to the flat before the media started setting up outside. Mrs. Hudson joined them as they all sat in the main room talking of the engagement. 

Helena sat on the bed, watching Sherlock as he buttoned his blazer while on the phone with his brother, Mycorft. He wore the lovely purple dress shirt with dark slacks and his usual black blazer he was buttoning up in the mirror. Helena didn't;t have to worry too much about being seen by the media, so she wore her red jumper from yesterday and lighter jeans.

_“Sherlock, please. I_ beg _of you.”_ Mycroft spoke on the other end of the phone. _“You can take over at the interval.”_ He sounded fairly desperate.

The music of ‘ _Les Miserables.’_ could be heard. Sherlock had stuck Mycroft with their parents to go to the theater, and it sounded like Mycroft was in hell during the song ‘Do you hear the people sing?’ playing in the background.

Sherlock mouthed at her, ‘drama queen’, earning a snicker. “Oh, I’m sorry, brother dear, but you made a promise. There’s _nothing_ I can do to help.”

_“But you don’t understand the pain of it – the horror!”_

Sherlock ended the call, pocketing his phone. “Any word from Dally?”

Helena stood, straightening out his blazer. Her hands pressed against his chest, fixing the purple collar of his shirt. “No, nor nothing from Henry.” She wasn’t too worried. “His phone craps out sometimes out there, so I’m sure they’re fine.”

Sherlock smiled, tucking a thick strand behind her ear. “We’ll be taking the train tomorrow, so we’ll find out what they’ve been up to.”

Sherlock’s fingers skimmed down her cheek and to her chin, lifting her sight to his own. He leaned down to kiss her, her eyes close awaiting for his lips.

“Come on.” Came John’s voice, jolting Helena to turn away and take a step back. “You’ll have to go down. They want the story.”

Sherlock nodded at John who stood in the hall. “In a minute.” John left, leaving the two alone. 

A train ride on our own sounds nice, not thinking about it.” Helena chuckled, smiling at him. Helena pecked his cheek and moved to the main room to join the others.

Sherlock followed, going through the kitchen to get the champagne bottle Lestrade had bought. Mrs. Hudson was gushing over Mary as they sat at the couch, Lestrade in John’s chair and Helena stole Sherlock’s.

“Have you set a date?” Mrs. Hudson asked Mary.

Sherlock knelt down at the coffee table to fill a glass or two.

Mary matched eyes with Helena, “Well, we thought May.” she told her.

Helena nodded to herself, smiling as Sherlock handed her a glass. May, so pretty far off. Enough for her to look pretty enough. She rubbed the stands of her hair between her fingers, looking at the color.

“Oh! Spring wedding!” Mrs. Hudson beamed.

Marry nodded, “Yeah. Well, once we’ve actually _got_ engaged. We were interrupted last time.” She teased at the detective, earning an amusing smile as John kept ‘yeah’ing at that.

“Well, I can’t wait!” Lestrade grinned, raising his glass Sherlock had given him.

“You will be there, Sherlock?” Mary asked, though it sounded more like a playful demand.

Sherlock stood, moving behind Helena to peer out the window. She felt his hand skim over her shoulder as he replied to Mary. “Weddings- not really my thing.” Though a wink was sent her way as he moved the curtains.

“I’ve already asked Helena, and the invitation is extended to Dally as well.” Mary added, Mrs. Hudson awwing at that.

John cleared his throat, coat on his person. “We actually wondered if Dally could be our flower girl?”

Sherlock and Helena’s heads snapped toward John, then to Mary who grinned, then back to John. “If that’s okay, and if- if she wants to?”

Mrs. Hudson could be heard gushing at that idea, Lestrade even added a comment that Dally would be a good flower girl. But Sherlock and Helena didn't know what to even say.

“Sorry to throw this at you.” Mary said, sensing the tenseness between the two. “I know with Sherlock back and Dally not here.”

“No, no, Mary.” Helena stood, walking over to pat her shoulder reassuringly. “I’m- We’re honored you’d want Dally as a flower girl. I’m sure she’d be ecstatic to hear!”

The two smiled, Helena looked to Sherlock who squinted at her. “Once we get things settled with Sherlock in her life it’ll be the first thing we talk about. I promise.”

Mary smiled, patting her hand as Helena walked past Sherlock. A look was given to not comment, they’d talk about it later.

It was then that Molly had joined them, and she had brought someone with her. As they greeted her, she introduced the tall dark haired man as Tom, her fiance! It was obvious to Helena and John the common characteristics of Tom to Sherlock. Tall, dark curly hair, thin. Even his fashion sense copied Sherlock! From the scarf looped around his neck down to his sharp black shoes.

It was largely amusing when Sherlock moved from the window to spot the man. Oh, Helena knew that look. Sherlock’s eyes roved the man up and down, he knew- He _had_ to have known. But a look from John and a small glance at Helena indicated it was best not to comment on it. Despite how much he was tempted to, there was no need to burst Molly’s happy little bubble.

He shook Tom’s hand and made his way out of the room with John following to greet the media down below. Lestrade had gotten them champagne which they gladly thanks and took. Lestrade stood by Molly as Mrs. Hudson offered Tom a seat with her and Mary at the couch.

“So, um, is it serious, you two?” Lestrade asked her, as Helena stood by them sipping her drink.

“Yeah!” Molly grinned, “I’ve moved on.”

She smiled toward Tom as Lestrade and Helena glanced to one another. Helena shrugged with a ‘let it go’ mouthed toward him as she moved to the window.

  
  


Sherlock and John inquired on Tom, but both agreed it was best to not say anything. Sherlock looped his scarf on, but glanced down and dropped his hands in exasperation. It was a bit unnerving to meet someone who had a near… completely identical fashion sense. Maybe he would wear the scarf differently.

“I’m still waiting.” John spoke up, Sherlock gave an inquisitive hum. “Why did they try and kill me?”

Sherlock frowned, something that had been buzzing around his skull for a few days. “If they knew _you_ were on to them, why go after _me_ – put _me_ in the bonfire? They could’ve gone after Helena, she’s an easy target.”

A look was given, but John was right. Helena had a blind spot and could’ve been taken much more easily than John. So why him?

“I don’t know.” Sherlock admitted, picking up his coat off the railing. “I don’t _like_ not knowing.” he grimaced.

He and John trotted down the stairs, Sherlock tossing his coat on. “Unlike the nicely embellished fictions on your blog, John, real life is rarely so neat.“ John stopped a few steps from the bottom. “I don’t know who was behind all this, but I _will_ find out, I promise you.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this.” Sherlock tilted his head, but didn't turn. “Being back.” He elaborated, as if he had to. “Being back. Being a hero again.”

“Oh, don’t be stupid.”

“You’d have to be an idiot not to see it. You _love_ it.”

Sherlock turned to him, “Love what?” he questioned.

John took the final steps, hand behind his back. “Being Sherlock Holmes.”

He frowned at the words, “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.” Sherlock dismissed as he moved toward the door.

“Sherlock, you _are_ gonna tell me how you did it?” Sherlock paused, both in step and slipping his black leather gloves on. “ _How_ you jumped off that building and survived?”

“You know my methods, John. I am _known_ to be indestructible.” He told, finishing his gloves, back still to John.

“No, but seriously.”

It seemed no one really wanted to know -excluding Anderson- how he survived. He was well over putting that entire plot behind, but John had to bring it up. Helena didn't care, Lestrade didn't care, John once didn't care. So why now?

“When you were dead, I went to your grave.”

“I should hope so.”

“I made a little speech. I actually spoke to you.”

“I know.” Sherlock turned to him once more. “I was there.”

“I asked you for one more miracle.” John told him, the two staring each other down. “I asked you to stop being dead.”

“I heard.” Sherlock replied softly.

A small hint of a crooked smile could be seen play on John’s lips. Sherlock inhaled sharply, letting the emotional air drift away as he clapped his hands. “Anyway, time to go and be Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock grinned to himself, moving toward the door. He paused, a playful glint in his eyes as he reached for the coat rack and took the damned deerstalker hat and placed it over his head. With confidence, he walked out the door with John trailing behind. The second the door opened, flashes of cameras and calls of his name were heard as microphones were shoved in his direction. With a smile, he answered questions and spoke of the recent case he had solved as John stood by his side.

Yes, he did enjoy being Sherlock Holmes.

Up in the window of the flat, Helena grinned seeing the media bombard her boyfriend, but he didn't seem to mind as much as he had before. Attention was what he wanted, and it’s what he got.

“Oh, Helena, dear.” She turned to Mrs. Hudson, concern in her features. “Is it alright?” She frowned. “Won’t Dally see the news?”

Helena’s brows relaxed. “Oh, don’t worry. Henry and I have kept her restricted from social media or such. And Henry rarely watches the telly, I think the odds are off.”

She sipped and turned, leaning against the window sill. “I did send a text to him just in case.”

“What time is your train?” Mary asked.

“You’re leaving already?” Molly asked.

Helena waved at them, “Sherlock and I are going back to see Dally. I want to have a small adjustment.” she explained. “Instead of just dragging her out here with all this news and excitement. Might be too much all at once.”

  
  


**Knock! Knock! Knock!**

“Dally! Can we talk about this? I swear, I’ll answer any questions you have, just please. Open the door?” Henry called on the other side of a locked and barricaded door.

Desk chair, a small bookshelf, and even a chat climbing tree was leaning against the door to secure the door from opening despite the knocking and hesitation of Henry ever kicking a door down. Never, she knew.

In the dark room, the eleven year old girl sat on her bed with her blanket over her as if she was in a tent. A light shining through was the screen she stared at on Henry’s phone she had taken. Her eyes stared at the screen, bright and stinging her eyes, but she didn't care. There, on live streaming from twitter, she saw her father. He was alive, standing in front of 221b, John beside him. The stupid hat on his head, and he was smiling.

Droplets of tears fell onto the screen, dripping down to stain the sheets. Dally sniffled, letting the tears fall freely as she watched her father, no longer dead father, talk cheerfully to the press as if everything was alright. Like he had never died, he had just come back from a two year vacation.

He came back for them, so why not for her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as I am a huge fanatic and lover of England, my older sister is the same for France. I had her help indicate what song was playing and she new it instantly, as she loves Les Miserables. Which lead to her singing it at me as I wrote the scene down.
> 
> She also helped me with Thai food. I have to be careful of certain foods because of my garlic allergy and never had Thai food. So I asked her dishes and she gave me suggestions of what Sherlock would eat and simple salads.
> 
> STAY SAFE EVERYONE!! WE'RE GETTING THROUGH THIS!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters revolve around Dally and Sherlock’s relationship, and then moving toward Helena and John’s. So, because the wedding episode is all the way in May and it’s currently November, we won’t be seeing the wedding for a LONG while! We still got Christmas, New Years, Dally’s birthday, so many events!!
> 
> STAY SAFE AND HAVE A SAFE THANKSGIVING!! STAY HOME!!

"Still no word?" Sherlock asked as he packed his suitcase.

Helena shook her head, resting on the bed with her head hanging off the edge. Her phone in her face as she just tried to call Henry again only to go to voicemail. "I'm getting concerned now."

Sherlock folded a second shirt from his dresser. "What is she usually up to at this time?"

Helena looked up -down- at him. It was about eight in the evening, the night before they'd leave for their train in twelve hours. "She doesn't go to bed until ten, so she's usually watching a movie, doing homework, shower. But Henry, had they lost electricity or something?"

Sherlock fished his phone out, noting her concern worsening. He couldn't fight over that he was as well, he didn't know what his daughter did these days with being home schooled. He sent a text to Mycroft and pocketed his phone awaiting a response.

"Hope she didn't wander off into the moor or something." She muttered, tossing her phone onto the bed as she sat up.

"I doubt that." Sherlock assured, folding another shirt and a pair of slacks. "We'll find out once we arrive tomorrow."

She turned to him, legs folded and hands resting on her ankles. "If Henry isn't answering, you might have to rent another car to get us to his place."

Sherlock nodded, that was no trouble. His phone vibrated, he tossed the socks back in the drawer and took it out reading the response.

 **No response  
** **But no emergency.  
** **-MH**

Hm, maybe they had lost signal or electricity out there. If Henry wasn't even responding to Mycroft, maybe something happened to his phone. He would've contacted his brother with the phone at the inn if something dreadful had occurred.

"Oh, bring your violin!" Helena chirped, gaining his attention.

"What for?" He asked, putting his phone down and returning to folding his socks.

Helena moved to sit on the edge of the bed, legs dangling off as her feet barely touched the floor. "Helena plays the piano, maybe you two can do some duet or such?"

Sherlock scoffed, "Still can't believe you didn't teach her the violin." he muttered betrayal earning his socks thrown at his shoulder.

"The violin was too hard for her, she got hooked onto the piano like a drug." She explained.

"How did she come to love it?" he asked, picking up the sock and tossing it back into the suitcase.

Helena stood and moved into the bathroom to put her eye drops in and clean her glasses. "At that inn, a piano was put in the center room for decoration. But, you know kids, they have to touch things." She called, pausing to use her eye drops.

"And?"

"And- she started playing, but not banging the poor keys in. She was very delicate, and memorized what each key sounded like. She actually taught herself how to play!"

Helena returned, eyes closed to let the eye drops settle in. She didn't bang into anything as she knew the room by heart and sat back on the bed. Shame she missed the proud grin stretched on Sherlock's features hearing this.

"She is a Holmes." He said softly.

Helena agreed, sighing as she laid back on the bed, arms stretched out. Sherlock packed a few more essentials and closed the case, putting it beside Helena's at the end of the bed. It was early, but that had to rise early to catch the train. Helena changed into a soft fleece long sleeve and pajama pants that sagged on her hips and down around her ankles. It was chilly as she snuggled under the blankets and into the bed. Sherlock changed into blue plaid pajama pants and a gray shirt. He looked like a normal every Joe with the night clothing compared to his usual shirt blazer attire.

"You alright for the night?" He asked, reaching to turn the lamp off.

She nodded into the pillow and nuzzled into it as the lights went off, darkness enveloping the room. "Don't hesitate if you need anything." He murmured, sliding under the blankets beside her.

"Thanks, I'll be fine if I need anything." She assured, saddling up beside him.

His arms wrapped around her waist as her head rested on his broad shoulder. Silence took within the room, an occasional noise such as voices and car horns heard outside the windows. Helena's eyes fell onto where she knew they were, thought not so dark to Sherlock, it was pitch black for her. All the times she would crawl through that window, a fresh mug of tea waiting for her arrival. The times she ran out that window to escape any hardships or arguments caused in the flat.

Helena found herself foolish, how she took advantage of the times she left Sherlock when she could've spent more time with him. Arguments wasted when they could've been close conversations. Chances she had to stay the night, even live there and too many times she denied it.

Yes, she was a fool. If Helena could, she'd tell herself three years ago to stop being an idiot and just stay with the bloody man. Live at the flat, stay be his side before time would pass and take him away.

"Helena?"

Sherlock must have been half asleep, feeling her tense body against his own.

"Just thinking." She told, turning her head toward him, unable to see the bright blues of his eyes. Though he was able to see her brown ones, she continued. "Thinking back to the old times."

"Old times?" He questioned, his voice was deep and made his chest rumble against her.

Helena sighed, "How much of a pain in the ass I was. Always leaving and going as I pleased." he chuckled making her smile. "How many times have I gone in and out that bloody window?"

"Sixty-three." He answered, she rolled her eyes. He would count them, wouldn't he? "What brought this on?"

Helena sat up, looking down at him. Though still pitch black, her hands guided up his chest, neck and found his sharp angled cheek. "I just think back, and wish I hadn't wasted so much time I could've had with you."

She felt his hands find her face much easier than she had with his, his fingertips brushing her cheeks and combing her damned bangs back from her face. "Don't think of it all back then, we're here now. We'll make up time, we have all the time in the world now."

Helena felt her chest tightened and a smile grew on her face from his soft words. He rose up and captured her lips in his, his fingers expanding behind her head through her thick hair. He released her earning a heartfelt chuckle.

"I have to admit, Sherlock. You're much more passionate than I'd ever imagine." She commented, the two laying back down into the pillows.

"That's what a good partner does, is it not?" He asked, she chuckled again and patted his chest.

"I'm certainly not complaining." Helena yawned and let a small sigh as she let her eyes closed.

The ghost feeling of his hand down around her shoulder again, rubbing up and down soothed her to sleep. Soon after he followed with her.

* * *

Sherlock and Helena awoke around six and got showered, dressed, grabbed breakfast on the way to the station and made the train just a tad early. Helena took her sick pills and eye drops as they awaited in a train car. They sat across from each other as Sherlock looked out the window. Helena got her phone out, fully charged from last night, but frowned.

"Nothing." Sherlock concluded earning a nod from her as she placed the phone down on the table between them.

Sherlock took the phone, she allowed it thinking he was going to try and call himself. As if that was going to make a difference. After a few moments of silence, the train whistle blew signaling it's ready to leave. It jolted, shaking the two but withheld their seating.

"She's so big." Sherlock commented, earning a look from Helena. He showed the phone, revealing he was scrolling through photos of Dally.

"Yeah, she's getting tall." Helena leaned onto the table. "Honestly, Sherlock, she really does look like you. When I first showed Mary the photos, she said the same thing. Wouldn't have believed she was adopted."

His eyes shifted up to hers, a small smile playing on his lips. Dally's striking dark blue eyes and dark hair, quick wit and sharp talents, she would be considered a true Holmes.

They rode in silence, the pills making Helena sleepy as they reached outside London. She laid down with Sherlock's coat as a blanket, curled up across her seat. Sherlock himself watched out the window, seeing the countryside come into view. His thoughts ran a thousand miles faster than usual, all trying to conceive methods on how to greet his daughter. Doing anything over extravagant was not approved of, no need to repeat what he did to John to Dally. She was younger and possibly traumatized by his death. But looking through those photos, she was smiling and happy. Laughing, photos with her and Helena, a boy he had never seen before. Helena told him he was her friend, Charlie.

Interesting.

He expected her to have some girl friends, this boy. He'd have to meet this boy for sure.

The train arrived on time, around two in the afternoon. Sherlock rented a small car, though a Jaguar, it was better than the large car he had rented last time he was here. Helena fidgeted in the drive, but once they pulled onto Henry's property, it was more obvious with her taking deep breaths.

"I shouldn't be the nervous one here." She said, as Sherlock put the car into park and shut it off.

"It should be me?" He asked, pocketing the rental keys.

Helena shrugged, "I know you Sherlock. You don't get nervous." She told her.

She left the car with Sherlock, getting their suitcases from the trunk. Helena looked around and when she got to the door, it flung open jolting the two. Henry was looking panicked, almost as much as back during the Hell Hound case.

"Henry? What's-"

"It's Dally, she's been locked in the room for days and won't come out."

Panic reached the parents as they moved their suitcases to the side by the door and rushed in. Helena led Sherlock to Dally's bedroom and approached the door. Helena knocked on the door, awaiting a response.

"Dally? It's Helena, are you alright, sweetie?" She knocked again, but still nothing. Her hand gripped the doorknob, finding it locked. She shook it, and even pressed her shoulder against the door.

"Dally! Please answer me, are you alright?" She called, shouldering the door. Helena turned to Henry, "What happened? Did Charlie's cousin do something?"

"Cousin?" Sherlock questioned.

"No, no, nothing like that." They looked at him, narrowing eyes for answers. "...She found out."

"Found out?" Helena repeated. "What do you mean, found out?"

"The radio, twitter, everything!" He exclaimed, motioning to Sherlock. "Him coming back has been all over the news."

Helena's cold glare shot at Sherlock before turning back to the door. "Dally-"

"Go away!" Barked her voice from the other side of the door. "I want to be alone!"

Helena sighed, thankful she responded. "Listen, honey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry this is how you had to find out."

No response, Helena was silent for a moment before she pressed her ear to the door. "We can talk about this."

Sounds of things being moved, grunting and thuds are heard. She glances to Henry who shrugs worriedly, assuming she had barricaded herself in. The lock clicked, Sherlock reached for the knob, but Helena stopped him.

"Best I go in first." She told him.

He nodded as she cracked the door open and slid in. The door shut and it clicked back to being locked. The bedroom was dark with its curtains closed and lights out. Helena had twice of a hard time as she stubbed her toe against something, her hands caught the furniture, it was her small dresser. Dally had indeed barricaded the door.

"Sorry, mum." Dally muttered, taking Helena's arm gently and leading her to her bed.

With a sigh, they sat down, Helena's hands reaching to hold Dally's hand. "Dally, I'm extremely sorry-"

"I'm not mad at you." She told, her grip tight on her hand. Her voice sounded hoarse as she cleared her throat. "I'm… I'm mad at _him_." Her voice cracked at the mention of him.

Helana's thumb rubbed her knuckles, attempting to comfort her first to ease the information. This was not how it was going to go. But, damned if the news was going to reach her all the way out here before Sherlock himself did.

"I get it, so was I, so was John, nearly everyone was. But we were thankful to have him back too." Helena explained.

"So I should be thankful?" Dally questioned.

Helena hesitated, not wanting to force her to feel anything she didn't want to. She just wanted her to hear the full story. "I'm not saying you have to be-"

Dally yanked her hand away and stood. "Yes, you are! Everyone is cheering online for his return! I saw the interview, how smug he was and enjoying the attention."

Helena frowned, hearing her pace around the room but unable to see where. "I'm sorry, I didn't know if you were going to find out."

"So it was supposed to be kept from me? Until when!?" She cried, stomping her foot. "Did he even want to come see me, or did you have to drag his arse out of London?"

Helena stood, "I get your upset, but I won't take you swearing at me, Dally." she told sternly.

"Who cares!? I was left behind again!" She barked, voice rising higher and louder Helena had ever heard her. She was usually so quiet. "Everyone got to see his return but me! _Me_! His own daughter!"

"Dally, he didn't forget you!" Helena tried to reason, getting to her feet. "He had something extremely important to take care of, it involved the danger of London."

"I don't want to hear it!"

"But Dally-" Helena stepped to reach wherever she was, but tripped over something and crashed to the floor. Her elbow make contact with the wood, causing pain to shoot up her arm. "Ah! Bloody hell!"

Dally saw her mother struggle in the dark and realized she should've put the light on. She jogged to the door, her fingers hitting the light switch just as the door swung open. Wait, hadn't she locked that? It was then the tall dark figure of her father strode in, making her take a few steps back. Sherlock's eyes fell on her, pausing as he halfway walked in, lock picking tools in his hands as he pocketed them. The two stared at one another, not seeing each other for two years. While to Dally, Sherlock hadn't changed, he saw the age that came to her daughter. She was taller, her face looked a bit more mature and even her voice sounded different. Her hair was longer than before, past her shoulders in waves, her bangs grew out as well now blended in with the rest of her dark locks.

Helena soon collected herself, rubbing her elbow as it was sore around the funny bone. "Dally…"

Now with the lights on, she saw she had tripped over Dally's backpack. It was packed and looked over stuffed, her heart dropped. Had she planned to run away? Her eyes shifted up to see the two staring at each other. It felt like moments were passing by forever as the two hadn't moved. Sherlock looked nervous to step near his daughter, and the other took another step back. She didn't want to be near her father.

"Dally," He spoke, voice low and soft as to not spook her. "You've grown."

The girl frowned and folded her arms, turning away from him. No words escaped her lips, though she looked to wanting to say everything she felt like she had at Helena.

Sherlock glanced to Helena who watched with worry, sitting back on the bed. He swallowed and chewed his lip, taking a few steps into the room. "If you would, I'd like to explain myself."

Henry stood at the door, watching the family in silence. He looked out of place, but stayed nonetheless. Dally didn't respond to her father, she refused to give him her attention completely, shutting him out of her own world.

"I'm so sorry for what I did to you." He said, despite turning around the room his eyes were kept on Dally. "I was given no other choice, it had to be done. If I hadn't you, Helena, John, you all would've been in danger by Moriarty."

Dally still didn't speak, she wasn't even physically responding to him. Her shoulders tight and hunched with her arms crossed. Her back to him facing the wall, Helena was sure she was glaring from her angle.

"I left you in a terrible spot, and I am deeply sorry." He told, moving his arms to fold behind his back. "I'm back, and wish to make it all up to you."

Helena glanced at Sherlock, he looked to her then back to Dally.

"Helena told me you play piano," He took a silent careful step towards her, not seeing her move he risked another step, then another. "How you ride horses, made friends with…" He turned to Helena, forgetting the boy's name. She mouthed it to him, he turned back to Dally. "Charlie."

Dally shook her head, hunching herself more as she shifted her footing. Sherlock stepped to being a foot from her. His hand raised up to reach for her shoulder, wishing to hug and hold her like he had times before. Helena tensed, wanting to stop him. He was pushing this a bit too far, wanting her to let her take all his words in first before even trying to approach her.

Once his hand made contact with her shoulder, Dally turned sharply and a resounding slap of her hand echoed in the room. Sherlock's hand shot away against his chest staring at his daughter, she glared at him with tears brimming her eyes. Those dark blues shined wanting to let the tears pour down but she refused to blink. Those eyes once held happiness and glee to see him, now held contempt and hate.

Dally rushed to the door and Henry moved quickly out of her field banging into the door. The three let her go as she stomped down the stairs and the door slammed.

"Let her go." Helena told, seeing the men shift to the door, they looked to her. "Best we leave her alone for a while."

She reached behind her on the bed, finding Henry's phone and handing it to him. On the screen was a paused video of the news interview Sherlock and John had the other day.

* * *

Helena knew Dally wouldn't go too far, though she still worried until she got home two hours later. Henry made them tea as they spoke, she talked of her appointment and Sherlock his case. Though he strangely didn't get questioned by Henry how Sherlock lived, he was calm and didn't seem shocked by his return. She noted in the back of her mind to question Sherlock later about it.

When Dally returned, she quietly walked through the back door and through the kitchen. She was greeted by Maggie, rubbing her ankles as she circled the island. Dally bent down and picked up the overly fluffy cat, who purred in her arms for attention. She must have been hiding when all the commotion happened.

"We should go find her." Said a male deep voice, Dally dropped Maggie down letting her land on her paws.

"Trust me, it's best to let her sink this in." Said a female voice, Helena trying to be sensible.

Dally tiptoed around the kitchen to see them in the foyer. Sherlock was tying his scarf off, his coat hanging on the rack. He looked to be ready to go out, tilting her view Dally saw her father looked anxious.

"Helena, I think two hours is enough time." He tried to reason, reaching for his coat.

Helena grabbed his arm, trying to stop him. "We give her as long as she needs. We can't rush this." Her hand reached down to take his, lacing her fingers with his. "I know you want to reconnect with her, I want you both to go back to how it was."

Dally watched, listening to her mother intently. Sherlock took a breath and looked down at her, his other hand reaching up to cup her cheek.

"It can never go back, just like it couldn't with John and just like…" She swallowed, feeling his thumb rub the bone of her cheek. "Just like me."

Dally felt intrusive, watching her mother and father have this touching moment. One wanted to give her the needed space and time to readjust to this life she had two years ago, the other wanted it to happen within that minute. She knew these two years were hard on Helena, becoming a single mother and losing someone she loved in one fell swoop. Dally made it hard at times, especially when first adjusting. Was she making it hard for her again? She didn't want to see Helena struggle, she kept her after the fall, raised her and loved her as if she was her own. Helena was the first woman to be a mother to her, and hurting her like this was painful to herself.

"I need to fix this." Sherlock told, letting his hands go of her and grabbing the coat.

"Ahem…" They turned shocked to see Dally shuffling into the room. Her hands knotted in front of her as she stepped up to them, her eyes nervous shifting between the two. "I'm… Sorry for my behavior, mum."

Helena took a breath, letting her speak her mind. "I...I really want to make this work- I really do." She told, taking even breaths as she tried to keep eye contact with her father for more than a mere few moments. "But, it also really hurts to know that he went to see everyone else, and me last."

"Dally-" Helena gripped his arm, silencing him with a look.

She sighed, her tongue skimming her lips. "Can we do this slowly? One day at a time?" She asked, as if she was asking to borrow money for something.

Sherlock had never seen Dally act so mature, him gone had really made her grow up. Not just physically, but had mentally grown up as well. Dally was always very bright and had a tinge of maturity when they first met, it was just a bit of a punch in the gut how she handled this at her age.

She is indeed a Holmes.

Helena smiled and knelt down to Dally hugging her close. "Of course, sweetie. We're going to take this as slow and careful as you like."

Dally hugged her back, her eyes nervously landing on her father standing by the door. He gave a small smile and nodded, though dally didn't return it. She nestled into Helena's hair bushing around her neck. Slow and carefully. Dally wanted to make sure it would take a very long time for Sherlock to wait to her regain love and trust. Even if it took years.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been having personal problems that are once again, delaying my motivation to write. Usually it fuels me, but these have been so bad, I’ve been going into depressing states.
> 
> Living with parents isn't all that cracked up to be. Sure, free food, internet, and no rent. (depending on the parents) But, I am extremely independent and want to pay for my own things, cook my own things, and just live on my own. But with the economy, covid, and of course, the shitty pay rate, I won't be going anywhere soon. Hoping to get a job after college to get the fuck out of here.
> 
> I forgot Osiris is a boy, not a girl. So sorry for the confusion!
> 
> Sorry for the rant, just haven’t been in a good frame of mind lately.
> 
> Enjoy and please stay safe! Vaccines are almost here!

“So, Henry knew?”

Sherlock was taking his shirt off in the bedroom as he heard Helena’s question from the bed. They were getting ready for the day as he was getting dressed from his night clothing to day. Helena was ready. Just putting her eye drops in, every morning and night she’s to do this.

“Knew what?” He asked, putting his shirt by his suitcase and taking a white dress shirt. She turned to him, despite her eyes closed he knew it was a ‘you know’ look. “Yes, he was to keep an eye on you for Mycroft who informed me of anything that happened.”

“Such as?” Helena eyes, blinking an eye open, then the other.

Sherlock slid his arms through the sleeves and started buttoning it up. “Well, the only one I got was when Dally ran away into the Moor. That was when you first arrived.”

He buttoned his shirt up, pausing when he saw the look Helena gave him. Sherlock sighed and finished his buttons, tucking his shirt into his trousers. Helena got off the bed and walked over to Sherlock, he dropped his arms as she fixed his collar and gave it a tight grip. She smiled up at him, though it was one her menacing ones he’s seen before.

“Anyone else happen to know about your two year dead vacation while we’re on the subject, _Dear_?” Her tight grip against his throat, not in an ensuing threatening way, but effective.

Sherlock ran through his mind, but nodded when he had assured himself that was the very last person to know. “The very last, promise.” He told, hands reaching up to loosen her grip and kiss her knuckles.

Helena eyed up, assessing him for a moment longer before letting go and walking back to the bed. She slid her glasses on as he fixed his collar for a moment then threw his blazer on.

“What does the day usually consist with for Dally?” He asked, finishing his cuffs and asserting his attire was perfect.

Helena sat back down on the bed, “Since she’s home schooled, she usually starts her morning with some lessons with her tutor after breakfast.” she answered. “They usually last until noon, she gets through them fairly quickly. After that, we can go out for lunch and you can meet Charlie.”

Sherlock’s brows knotted, for a split second he forgot who Charlie was then nodded to himself reminding before Helena noticed. “Sounds like a perfect first day to reconnect with my daughter.” He told her with confidence.

Helena stood and walked to him again, giving his sharp cheek a peck. “Be slow, Sherlock. You don’t want to chase her away, alright?”

That was true, it still stung the way she slapped his hand away. Sherlock remembered times when she always wanted hugs, hold his hand, how much she’d call him dad or daddy. Dally didn't even look at him now. But, for the sake of it all, Sherlock would be patient and let her come to him.

  
  


Sadly, this would be taking longer than Sherlock ever assumed. At breakfast, Dally greeted Henry, Helena, and even the cat, Maggie. But, when Sherlock greeted her a good morning, Dally simply ignored him and asked Helena a question. Sherlock was patient, and asked what her lessons were that day, but he was still ignored. She told Henry Maggie needs for cat food when he asked a third question about her favorite subject. Helena got worried, knowing Sherlock’s tolerance had a limit, she just hoped he’d never reach it.

He tried a different approach at lunch when her schooling was finished. They went out to eat, and when he offered to tell her about any cases he’d done she had finally responded.

“I’ve found myself less into boring, repetitive mysteries. Something more exciting like dramas and even romance soap operas are better than those drawls you call ‘cases’.”

Ouch.

Sherlock took that to the face well, as he glanced at Helena restraining from retorting back. Dally was pushing it a bit far, it was almost on purpose to be acting like this. She knew Sherlock liked to be a smartass when given the opportunity, but he held back with Dally.

Dally eventually spoke of her subjects today, Sherlock noted the interest she had in science. Maybe he can set up some sort of experiment for them to perform to reconnect. They ate through lunch with Sherlock content to his own silence as he grilled up some ideas for them to do.

“How about you play some piano tomorrow?” Helena offered. “It’s going to rain and the stables are closed on the weekend.”

Dally was hesitant, she stole a glance at Sherlock who looked to have slipped into his Mind Palace. “Uh, sure, mum. Any requests?”

Helena shook her head, “Play that song you love so much.” she told her.

Once they finished, a short drive to the stables was made. Sherlock and Helena followed Dally to the pen where Charlie was found walking around Osiris by the reins. Dally climbed over the fence and ran over to him in glee.

“Thank God, you’re here!” She panted, giving Osiris a pat to acknowledge her.

Charlie gave a funny look, “I’m always here when you ride Osiris. What makes today any different?” he asked.

She stood up and buckled her helmet on, pushing her hair under it. “Because my father’s here.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped and looked behind her to indeed see Sherlock Holmes standing by her mother at the fence. “He’s alive!”

Dally shoved his arm, shushing him. “I noticed!” She snapped at him, moved towards the side and hulking herself up onto Osiris’ saddle. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Charlie looked visibly confused. “But, isn’t that a good thing? I mean, he was dead for two years and came back. Isn’t that a dream come true?”

“Yeah, until I found out he thought of me last and decided to take his precious time to get here.” She adjusted Osiris as she stomped her hooves.

“What do you mean?”

Dally sighed, pulling the reins a bit tighter than usual. Osiris made a noise not liking the harsh movements Dally was making. “I had to find out he was alive through Twitter, news media, and the radio. He never even contacted me or made an effort to see me until yesterday. Just shows up at the door and expected me to hug him like he was gone for two _days_ , not two _years_!”

Charlie raised his hands up in an attempt to calm his friend down. “But, I mean, he’s here now, right?” He tried to reason. “Look, maybe some riding with Osiris will relax you. You’re sort of making him anxious with your yelling.”

Dally realized this and leaned over to pet his wide neck. “Sorry boy,” she apologized softly. “Not having the best day, but no reason I should ruin yours.”

“Or mine.” Charlie muttered, earning a look from Dally who chuckled.

“Thanks, Charlie. I’ll get Osiris to do some jumps. Feel free to talk to them, maybe you can get that autograph you always wanted.” Dally teased, turning her horse toward the start.

Charlie blushed, yelling at her. “I never said that!”

“Your face says different!” She called back with a laugh.

From the fence, Sherlock and Helena watched on as the two kids interacted. “So, she’s gotten a broken arm from this before?” He asked, hands shoved into his coat pockets as she watched his daughter climb the horse.

“It was right after a rainy day, the mud was too slippery and they both slipped.” Helena explained, smile on her face. “Dally was more worried about Osiris getting hurt than herself.”

Sherlock nodded, “Dally has been one to worry about others before herself.” he said, stealing a side glance at her. “Reminds me of you.”

Helena gave a funny look, her arms perched over the top fencing. “Me?”

He nodded. “You sacrifice your own well beings for others, you’ve proved it many times. No need for me to list the events.” Sherlock paused, grinning at her. “Unless you wish me to?”

Helena laughed, “If you do, you might go off too long and miss Dally’s jumps.” she told him.

Their focus returned to Dally once she had Osiris trot to the beginning of the jumping course. She took a few moments to talk to Osiris as Charlie made his way to her parents.

“Hey, Charlie.” Helena greeted.

He waved, pulling himself up to sit on the fence next to her. He nervously looked to Sherlock who was eyeing him up. This was Charlie? He was the scrawny little red head who had kept his daughter company and gave her friendship, huh?

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” He greeted Sherlock. Charlie reached over to hold a hand out, but Sherlock turned away. Charlie cleared his throat and brought his arm back, not knowing what he expected.

Dally then got Osiris started into a run and started the course. The first few jumps were small and simple for him to get through. Sherlock tense when she moved from the double bar to the triple bar. It wasn’t that he had no confidence in her skill, but still grew concerned about possibly seeing her fall. They got through them perfectly, then prepared for the wall jump. It was of foam boxes so Osiris didn't get hurt if he stopped last minute. Charlie bounced in his seat, cheering for Dally.

“Has she jumped this before?” Sherlock asked Helena.

She shrugged, “She’s been trying to, but Osiris has been a bit hesitant. Maybe she’ll get it.” Helena patted his arm. “It’s fine.”

And it was fine. Osiris did stop a few times, the third Dally had to catch herself from falling off. By the fourth time, she managed the jump and only knocked over a few foam bricks. Helena and Charlie cheered for them, though Sherlock was silent as Dally rode over to them.

“You got her over it!” Charlie praised, giving her a high five.

“Good job, boy!” Helena reached over patting his neck.

Osiris sniffed at Sherlock who took a step back from its snout. “She won’t bite, you know?” Dally told him.

“I assure you, it’s not that.” He told her, as Osiris took a step or two to hang his head over the fence. He tried to snort against his coat when Helena pulled him back. “Not overly fond of horses.”

Dally rolled her eyes, “Not surprised you don’t like something I do.” she snapped and turned away.

“What? That’s not what I-” With a huff, Dally turned to repeat the course with Osiris. Sherlock turned to Helena and Charlie, she looked to him sympathetically. “I didn't say that.”

“I know, we heard. You didn't mean anything by it.” She assured.

Charlie coughed into his fist to speak up. “She’s a little hurt, Mr. Holmes.” He told him. “She’s upset that you didn't go to her first when you become, not dead, anymore.”

“I understand that.” He replied. “But I had a terrorist threat to deal with in London. How else could it be safe for her to go back.”

Charlie gaped. “Go back?”

“Sherlock-” Helena warned, but he walked around her to Charlie.

“Yes, once things are fixed- once I fix them. We’re all going back to London.” He explained.

  
  


Helena leaned onto the fence by her elbow, groaning as she covered her face with her gloved hands, glasses rising onto her forehead. Charlie blinked, looking a mix of shock and hurt by this fact Sherlock had stated.

“She’s leaving?” He asked, as if not understanding the detective. “For good?”

Helena jumped in, adjusting her glasses back on her nose. “It’s not official, Charlie. We still have to let Dally adjust to Sherlock’s return.” She patted his shoulder, “Keep this between us?” Helena asked.

Charlie nodding, jumping off when he heard Dally call him to help fix her saddle that looked looser after the jump. When alone with Charlie helping Dally, she turned to glare at Sherlock.

“You need to calm down.” She warned him.

“Pardon?”

She sighed, “I get you’re eager to have everything back to normal. But, you have to remember. You were _dead_ for _two years_ , Sherlock.” Helena emphasized. “Dally came from an orphanage, got you as a dad, and not even a year, you play dead. Imagine how hard that was for her?”

Sherlock’s sigh cascaded a hoty breath into the air as if he were smoking right there. The thought of a smoke was a growing temptation at this point. “My apologies aren’t reaching her, nor is my patience of letting her come to me. Am I to wait two years, Helena?”

“If that’s what it takes.” She told him.  
  


* * *

It was growing dark and colder, so they decided to end the horse riding early and head back to Henry’s. He was out currently, leaving a note on the fridge he was meeting some mates at the pub. Helena wondered if he was giving the small family space to reconnect, made her feel bad for him to leave his own home.

“What’s for dinner?” Dally asked, tossing her coat onto the couch. “I’m starving!”

“Put your coat on the rack.” Helena told, not even turning to see the coat dangling off the end of the couch. Dally huffed and did so as Sherlock joined her in the kitchen. “Up for pasta?” She asked him.

“Left overs?” He asked, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

“Fresh, of course.” She told, taking a bag of shrimp from the fridge drawer. “Dally, we’re having shrimp pasta!”

A cheer was heard as Dally trotted up to her room. “Call me when it’s ready!”

Helena placed the bag down for Sherlock to inspect as she shut the door to search for the box of pasta in the cabinets. She found the box of Linguine , shaking it to test the amount when she spotted Sherlock’s questioning look.

“...What?”

He put the shrimp bag down by the stove. “When do you cook such a-”

“Fabulous dinner?” She winked teasingly.

Sherlock paused, “I was going to say difficult.” now he earned a look. “...I’m not saying-”

“I know what you mean.” She told, ducking under to the lower cabinet to get the pot out. Helena stood and brought it over to the sink to fill it with water. “When Dally and I moved here, I had to learn to make meals for her. She lived off of take outs and Mrs. H’s cooking for too long in London.”

Helena stopped the tap and moved the pot onto the stove, lighting it. “So, Henry taught me to cook some basic meals, and eventually I followed some cookbooks and videos.”

Sherlock watched her move around the kitchen, fishing into drawers and diving into cabinets to get spices and herbs. He’s seen her make a sandwich or such, but her reasoning made sense. Dally had a better diet here than whatever she ate back in London.

He found himself in the way as she got the sauce pan out and moved to sit at the island to watch. Helena was a very independent person, now and before he met her. Always relying on herself to do everything, which even included raising Dally. Sure, Henry gave them home and security, but from what he’s seen so far he had no role to being a father in her life, more like an uncle in her life.

The sizzling of the pan and boiling of the pasta filled the room with scents of shrimp being sauteed once the pasta had been boiled. Helena added garlic and pepper flakes as she stirred the pan with a wooden spoon. She looked like a common house wife right now, moving around the kitchen knowing what to add, when to add, and how much to add. It was like a ballet, seeing her move fluidly from one end of the kitchen to the other. Now and then she would hum to herself as if she had no one watching her, or that she felt comfortable for Sherlock to see her as such.

Never in his life would he expect to see her become so domesticated. Years ago, she refused to even stay for more than a few hours let alone a day at his flat. Now, here she was, making dinner for him and his daughter. Like a small cute family that they were.

His mind wandered near the Mind Palace as he thought back to John having sustained normal life while he was gone. He was going to be married and possibly even have kids someday soon. Sure, Sherlock having Dally didn't stop his detective work, but would having kids stop John from aiding in the cases? It was difficult enough to not have him, sure Molly helped but it wasn’t the same. Even with Helena there.

Helena.

How much longer did she have until she was completely blind?

He felt his hand go up and comb through his curls, reaching down to the back of his neck. Two years, and she was this bad so far. He had noticed when she moved around, her head craned in certain ways and turned more to the right relying on her sight through the left eye. Her right peripheral vision had been taken away already, how long until it was completely gone? How long until the left started to copy its twin?

He had to fix his relationship with Dally. He had to fix Helena’s sight so she wouldn’t go completely blind. He had to fix the distance between her and John.

Sherlock had to fix everything.  
  


* * *

_“So, what’s he up to?”_ Charlie asked over the Skype call with Dally, as she sat on her bed in front of her mother’s laptop.

She shrugged at the camera. “Hell if I know. Probably talking to mum or something.” Dally sat cross legged, her elbows on her thighs as she rested her chin in her palms. “Mum said she’s making pasta shrimp and he just stood there like a stooge with her.”

Charlie was at his desk on the other side of the screen, looking to be doing homework. Judging by the angle, he was on his phone. Maybe his mum took his laptop away so he could focus on his math.

_“Maybe they're being like those couples in those rom-coms when making dinner. Kissing and being all cute.”_ He teased, earning a glare from Dally. _“What? You said they were together before the- y’know- right?”_

“Yeah, I did.” She reached for a pillow from behind her and hugged it. “Back then, they rarely showed affection. Sure, they’d give each other looks or something. As far as I remember.” Dally shrugged. “It’s just weird.”

_“Weird that your dad and mom are back together?”_ He asked.

Dally grimaced, “She’s not really my mum- I mean, she is.” She groaned and shoved her face into the pillow. Charlie paused his division to give a glance. Dally lifted her head, tucking her chin into the top of the pillow.

“They never got married, they were barely officially together before he went away.” She explained, turning her head to look at the door. “Uncle Mycroft had it set for her to adopt me. After a while I got used to calling her mum, that’s what she is to me.”

_“So wait.”_ She glanced up as Charlie leaned closer to the camera. _“Then, that means if he faked his death, and has been alive this whole time, she never officially adopted you.”_

After a moment, Dally’s eyes went wide as she groaned and fell back onto her bed. Charlie sat her roll around letting out frustrated noises when she shoved the pillow into her face.

_“It’s not the worse thing, Dally.”_ He reassured her.

**Knock! Knock! Knock!**

Dally sat up once she heard knocking on her door. “Dinner must be ready.” She assumed, reaching for the laptop. “Night, Charlie.”

_“Good luck.”_ He wished, ending the call as she closed the lid.

The girl climbed off the bed fixing her hair as she opened the door. She nearly walked into the solid mass of dark, before looking up to find her father ready to knock again.

“Oh.” He dropped his hand and took a step back to give her some space. “Dinner’s ready.” Sherlock told her, folding his hands behind his back.

“...Okay.” She muttered, closing the door behind her and making her way down the stairs.

Sherlock followed as they both walked into the dinning room where Helena had the plates ready and was serving a large bowl of shrimp pasta with a salad bowl on the side. Dally raised a brow, knowing she didn't eat salad but neither did Helena. Maybe Sherlock was going through some vegetarian phase. Sherlock thought the same, assuming maybe Dally was being those vegan weirdos on the internet, not seeing a difference between them or vegetarians.

Once the Holmes’ came in, Helena smiled and took her oven mitts off and placed them on the table. “Take your seats and we’re ready to eat!”

Helena looked proud and excited to have a family dinner, so Dally coincided to sit on her left, though Helena moved to sit across from her. Dally watched as Helena encouraged Sherlock to sit down, as he took the seat at the end of the table. This resulted in Sherlock sitting in between Dally and Helena. Her mother clearly did it on purpose, judging by the hesitance he took to sitting down.

“Help yourselves. Oh, I forgot drinks.” Helena stood once more, touching Sherlock’s shoulder. “What drinks will you guys have?”

“Just water will do.” He told her, reaching over to scoop some pasta onto his plate.

“Dally?”

She looked up. “Do we have any more of Tango?”

Helena thought for a moment, “I’ll check. But if not, water?” she asked.

Dally nodded letting Helena go to get the drinks. Then she realized she was alone with Sherlock. Damn you, mum, she thought. Once Sherlock finished with his small helping, placing the spoon gently into the bowl. Dally moved to get it, but found her plate suddenly spilled with the veggies from the salad bowl. She blinked, seeing that Sherlock had plated her food with the wrong dish.

“What are you doing?” She snapped, leaning back as a small tomato rolled around on her plate.

Sherlock gave an innocent look, that puppy look she had seen him use before. “Just plating your food for you, darling.”

She gave him a look, then glared down at the greens and scowled. “I clearly don’t eat salads.” She picked up the plate and used her fork to shovel it all back into the bowl.

Sherlock frowned, “Is that not for you?” he asked.

“No, and clearly it’s not for you. Though you might need it.” She retorted, catching him off guard by that remark.

“Here we go.” Helena returned, placing a glass of water down for Sherlock and herself, and a glass of Dally’s tango cherry soda. “Last can, you’re lucky Henry didn't see it behind the milk.”

Dally smirked, piling a large portion of the pasta with extra shrimp onto her plate. “Good, I keep trying to hide them.”

“Well I prefer you didn't drink those. But, they were a gift so I’ll let it slide.” She said.

It was then Sherlock saw Helena not get any pasta or shrimp, but gathered her plate with a salad. Dally paused in taking a fork full of her wrapped up pasta and stabbed shrimp to see as well. The Holmes’ watched as Helena didn't even touch the second dish and just went to town eating the lettuce, tomatoes, sliced cucumber and other weird greens the Holmes’ weren’t into.

Silence came upon the family dinner, only clinks of dishes and chewing were heard. Now and then a sip and glass being put down came into light, along with clinging to having seconds.

The pasta was eaten up fast mostly by Dally, who barely made it through her third helping. Almost like she wanted more of it before Sherlock could even think of having a second helping.

“Sorry for not leaving any left for you, mum.” Said Dally, leaning back with a content sigh. “It was too good.”

“I care to agree.” Sherlock nodded, spotting the glancing glare from his daughter.

“Thank you, both. And don’t worry, Dally. I had the salad.” She assured, standing to take the dishes.

Once again with the plates gone, the two were left alone. Sherlock cleared his throat and turned to Dally who hunched in her chair. “I hear your talented with the piano.”

“Disappointed I didn't take the violin?” She questioned.

Sherlock thought over his response, before he pushed his chair back to stand. “I’d like to listen to how well you play.”

“Good idea!” Helena agreed, coming back for the bowls where the dinners were served. “Dally, come help me with the dishes and we can listen to you play.

Dally took the glasses and followed her into the kitchen leaving Sherlock to head to the study where he spotted the piano before. Helena washed the dishes, preferring to do them by hand for now despite a dishwasher. Dally knew what this meant, doing dishes together usually meant she wanted to talk privately. She’s had it done before to have a conversation from Henry after dinner or breakfast.

Dally awaited as she dried the dishes her mother washed and put them away in their respective cupboards. The clinking of dishes with squeaking or cleaning the plates were as annoying as the silence at dinner.

“Dally-”

“Here we go.”

Helena turned her head to glance at her, then went back to rinsing a plate. “Can you be a little kinder to your dad?” She asked, giving a small smile. “He’s trying his best to reconnect, but also respecting your space. Can’t you give a little back?”

Dally scoffed. “I don’t get why I should. Did see him give anything during those two years.”

“I understand you're very hurt and betrayed by what he did. I’d be lying if I wasn't, but I’m extremely thankful he’s alive and with us again.” She explained, handing the plate to her.

“I want to be too, mum. How can I, knowing I wasn’t his first priority?” She asked, flipping the cloth to dry the plate.

“You have to understand; there was going to be a terrorist attack in London. Uncle Mycroft had to have him take care of it before he could even think of contacting you.” Helena reached over, kissing the top of her head. “He really did miss you.”

Dally understood that part, letting it go with a little mental argument with herself. London might have been attacked if it weren’t for her father’s actions. Everyone just happened to be in London and he needed their help. 

“If you really want to be angry, take it out on Mycroft.” Dally glanced over finding Helena smirking as she rinsed a glass cup. “It was his entire plan, and you can make him get you anything you want as pay back.”

Dally let her lip tug upwards at Helena’s joke, finishing the dishes with her. Helena got two wine glasses and a bottle Henry kept in his wine fridge. They went into the study where Sherlock was waiting by inspecting the books Henry kept. Once the girls came in, he placed the book back and smiled when handed a glass.

“Good year?” He asked as she poured the red wine for him.

“Hell if I know.” She replied, earning a chuckle as she poured her own glass. “It was the first one I saw that had been opened.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and clinked her glass to his before taking a small sip. It was okay, he wasn’t much of a wine person but it seemed Helena grew to be one herself. They took seats at the small couch as Dally looked through her music sheet booklet. It was no grand piano, a simple upright that rested against the wall by the bookshelf. When Henry wasn’t doing work here, she took the time to practice and teach herself some keys and songs thanks to music sheets she printed out. She folded the book back and placed it into the music rack. Dally gave her knuckles a crack and placed her fingers onto the keys.

The soft relaxing tune filled the room, Helena sighed and rested her head back as she dainty held the wine glass. This was one of her favorites to hear Dally Play, though she forgot the name of it. Sherlock knew right away, Clair de Lune. And the way her hands and finger flew across the piano proved she was self taught. Her posture changed to lean and move with the music as if she was being danced to by the music. Her eyes closed a few times, feeling the tune in her finger tips before looking back down where her hands moved to. Sherlock’s eyes were locked onto his daughter, it was hitting him now more than ever. How grown up she was, at only ten, but more than she ever was at eight. He felt more distant seeing her learn on her own things, having meaningful conversations with Helena and making friends. He had hoped she would adjust well with him gone, but not this far to a point she was fine with him out of her life. Would he be able to return to be involved in her life again?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting through the year guys! To readers in Britain, I read that the vaccine got approved for you guys there! Fight strong and stay safe even with that vaccine! In the US might not get it to the public until Spring, but I hope the health care workers and health risk elderly get it soon here.
> 
> AND another mishap fix. Doing the math, Dally is eleven, not ten, and turns twelve the next April. Damn you dyscalculia!
> 
> Enjoy and stay safe!!

The weekend was stressful..

Dally had to restrain herself from remarking to her father whenever he tried to start a conversation, be interested in her life or offer to take her somewhere or even buy her something.

An evening when she was watching a movie in the living room with Henry, it was an old 1960s horror film they were making fun of, he joined but turned the joyful criticizing into full blown whining. He complained about nearly everything, even causing Dally to defend some points to the film. After a half hour, she left saying she needed to take the trash out.

Another instance Sherlock found Dally in the study reading a book, he had seen she was into fictional works. The book she was reading was titled, ‘Killer on the Road’ by James Ellroy. He smirked, remarking how she said she wasn’t into murder or mystery. Though her response was she was into _good_ murder stories.

Dally 1

Sherlock 0

Thankfully for Helena, no mention of taking her back to London was leaked or mentioned. She didn't need this all to go backwards with how they were at least talking to one another. Albeit some smart remarks or such, it was actually a type of communication she herself had with Sherlock before when they first met. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a good start.

Although, Dally seemed to be doing certain things on purpose to annoy Sherlock. Such as giving more attention to Henry or talking to him with things Sherlock asked. Henry found himself taken off guard at times. It wasn’t that they never talked, but Henry gave Dally her space and helped her with homework or drove her to her friend’s house. It was clear Dally was doing it to spite Sherlock. It led to Sherlock looking up on his laptop in bed ‘how to connect with your child’, Helena would’ve found it funny if it didn't seem how desperate he was going for her.

This led to him trying to hug her at one point, which she just snapped at him as it was in the middle of her breakfast. She had knocked over her bowl of oatmeal and yelled at her father for it.

Sherlock decided hugging was not on the table for a while.

Another one he tried was during dinner, Dally was telling a funny conversation she had with Charlie. Sherlock was over interested, almost looking to be mocking it all. That led to Dally going silent and heading to bed early.

It wasn’t until Tuesday morning that they’d be at the horse ranch again, Sherlock in tow with Dally and Helena. Once out of the rental car Sherlock got, Dally was heading toward the stables when she stopped with shoulders slumped.

“Oh no,” She groaned, causing her parents to look at her. “Charlie’s jerk of a cousin is here today.”

Sherlock frowned following her sights to the older toe head boy poking at the back of Charlie’s head. Helena sighed, shaking her head. “Diane’s a good mother, just wish she’d do something about that nephew of hers.”

“Who is he?” Sherlock asked.

“Michael, he’s thirteen and from across the pond. He loves to torture Charlie and piss Dally off when he can.” She explained, tapping Dally on the shoulder. “Want us to go with you?”

Dally shook her head, “No, I can handle him. It was just nice to not see him last week.” she took a breath and marched toward the stables with her head held high.

Sherlock stood by Helena watching with her. “Dally has a bully?” He asked, Helena shrugged.

“More like Charlie has a bully and Dally defends him.”

They watched as Dally approached the boys, she reached up to flick the back of Michael’s ear, then moved around him to not see her when he spun around to find the culprit. Charlie smiled at Dally’s entrance, looking thankful to come to her rescue. Micheal spun around, glaring at Dally who wore a proud smug smile. Though he never touched her, some words were exchanged and soon he stomped off leaving the two alone.

“See, she can handle him fine. Let’s go to the jumping circle.” He took Sherlock’s arm dragging him over as he kept his eyes on the two.

“How long has this been a problem?”

“Hm?” She glanced at him. “I wouldn’t say it's a problem. A mild inconvenience, but not a problem. Everyone has a bully, Sherlock. Dally just prefers to handle it herself.”

Helena noticed the look he held in his features and grinned. “You’re cute when you do that.”

“What?” He asked, caught off guard.

“When you’re in protective mode.” She told. “Same look you held when we saved Dally from the hospital, and same one I’ve seen you give me in dangerous cases.” Suddenly, her phone rang in her pocket making her pause. When Helena took the phone out, she saw the caller ID was Mary.

“I’ll take this real quick.” She muttered, answering the phone and heading to the car with a cheerful “Mary, hi!” into her phone.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued his way through the semi muddy field to the fencing where the jumping poles were set up.

  
  


“I think it’s too muddy for you to take Osiris out for his jumps.” Charlie told Dally as she adjusted the saddle on her horse.

“It’s not _that_ muddy, Charlie. It didn't rain that hard.” She told him.

He followed her around the horse as she checked about. “Maybe not where you live, but it was a downpour last night. Remember last time you rode him in the rain?”

“How could I?” She retorted, clicking the helmet on and tucking her hair away. “I still have my cast on my shelf.”

“Hey, Dolly!” Seemed Micheal wasn’t done and decided to come back to annoy them further. “If I didn't know any better it looked like your mom’s got a new boyfriend.”

She didn't even take the energy to correct her name at him, knowing he’d just ignore it. “That’s her father out there, Micheal!” Charlie barked, defending Dally.

“Father? I thought he was dead.” He sneered.

“He faked his death, of course.” His cousin explained, making Dally wish he’d just shut up. He was only fueling the fire. “He had to save London from a terrorist attack.”

Micheal just laughed loudly at that claim, making Dally give her friend a look. “You guys seriously believe that? What losers!”

“It’s true, Micheal.” Dally told, giving in to acknowledging him. “Did you forget my father is Sherlock Holmes?”

“Yeah, and my mom is the queen of England!” The teen was cackling at this point.

“Just ignore him, Dally.” Charlie told, earning a look as Dally turned to him.

“I was until you fueled him with ammo.” She retorted, moving into Osiris’ stable to get some oats.

While Charlie and Dally were occupied, the teenager moved toward Osiris to adjust the saddle. The Horse snorted causing the teen to hesitate, but gave him a glare and started messing with the stirrups straps. He’s seen her fall before and despite breaking her arm, he still found it funny nonetheless. It’d be great for him to see her break her other arm.

“Alright, Charlie. I’ll do a walk around.” Dally said, as she and his cousin were coming back. “Rather not be in a cast again.”

Micheal moved away from Osiris, looking bored and innocent but kicking hay or flipping a horse shoe on the wall. Charlie eyed his cousin as he helped Dally get on her horse. “Why not show the gaits you’ve been practicing?” He offered.

Dally beamed, nudging his arm with her foot. “Good idea! Dad won’t have a heart attack over a few trots.” She told, nudging Osiris to take a careful walk out of the stables.

“Sure about that?” Micheal snickered to himself, Charlie frowned at him. “What?” He snapped, when Charlie just kept his sights on him, the teen just scoffed and walked off. He wanted a good seat for the chaos he started.

  
  


Sherlock and Helena waited by the fence, they perked up once they spotted Dally trotting out on Osiris. She entered the fencing area as usual as two workers on the ranch were removing the jumps.

“Hey, Charlie’s joining her.” Helena pointed out.

Charlie emerged from the stables on his own horse. The large creature was chestnut brown with a white diamond on its snout with a fad of pink on its nose. The mane was short and black with his tail matching the color though long and blew about in the breeze. Some white could be seen just above the hooves, then with dark chocolate that faded to the knees. The horse was known as Noah, a rescue horse saved from an abusive horse ranch years ago. Charlie treated him when his mother started at the ranch and the two clicked instantly.

Sherlock watched Dally and Charlie ride together on their respective horses. She looked to be eager to race as she had to keep herself from nudging Osiris to go faster. But it was then Sherlock noticed her saddle strap looked a bit loose.

Helena noticed the grimace look on Sherlock, assuming something else. “You two will reconnect soon. She’s acknowledging you, so that’s a start-”

A sudden scream cut through the air when Helena looked back in horror. The stirrup strap for Dally’s saddle had come apart and when she turned her horse, it had slipped over the side. Her scream was what they heard, Sherlock taking action by hurtling over the fence to run over. Helena was near frozen, seeing Dally hanging on to Osiris’ reins to keep from falling. No matter how one fell, Helena knew falling off a horse was extremely dangerous.

Matters didn't help when Osiris panicked from Dally’s scream and started trotting about. Dally bounced off the side and was hanging on for dear life at this point. Sherlock thought in his mind he could get the horse’s reins to stop him from jolting his daughter, but Charlie beat him to it!

He rode over with Noah and got along side of Osiris to let Dally lean against Noah. The presence seemed to have calmed Osiris enough to stop moving so Charlie can get her off. She climbed behind him and slid down as she got Osiris’ reins to sooth the creature.

“Sorry boy, it’s okay.”

Helena slipped under the fence and jogged over. “Dally, are you alright?” She asked, taking her by the shoulder.

She nodded, a tad shaken up. “Yeah. The saddle got loose somehow.”

Helena frowned. “That’s strange.”

Sherlock arrived, though his look was something indescribable to Dally. Helena though, has earned that look many a time.

“No matter how strange, that was extremely dangerous.” He berated her, eyes narrowing down as if a scolding was needed. “You shouldn’t have been on this bloody horse to begin with.”

“I had it under control.” Dally growled, stroking her horse’s forehead. “I accidentally made him panic.”

“The last thing you need is a trip to the hospital from falling off.”

Dally rolled her eyes. “Oh, because I broke my arm one time?”

“One time is enough! You could’ve hit your head, hurt your spine. What if you were paralyzed?”

Helena tried to step in. “Sherlock, you’re being a bit over the line.”

“No, I’m not.” He snapped at her, earning a look. “I was right, it is best for her to go back to London. She’ll be safe there.”

Dally’s heart fell into her stomach then. Charlie hung his head, sitting upon Noah as he heard this. “I never said I was going back.” She argued.

Sherlock's attention returned to her. “There’s no debate on it. In two days, we are packing and leaving the train by morning. You are going back where I can keep a better eye on you and-

“And what!?” She barked. “Keep me locked up in that flat like some tower!? It was a small incident! Horses get spooked easily!”

“Sherlock, she’s right.” Helena said, physically stepping between the two this time. “You are getting out of control.” She hissed at him.

“I’m out of control?” He questioned. “I’m not the one who let her ride about risking getting seriously injured everyday.”

“What else was I supposed to do after you died? Send her to boarding school?” It was then the realization came upon Sherlock, but Helena felt dread in her words. “Don’t you even dare think about that.”

“You are not sending me to a damn boarding school!” Dally cried.

“It just might be perfect.” Sherlock said, shockingly calmer now at the prospect of this. “She doesn’t want to be anywhere near me. I can keep tabs on her and she can still get the great education she needs.” He shrugged. “It’s perfect.”

They couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Dally had to take a step back as the tears were coming in. “Do you even hear yourself?” Helena questioned, disgust and horror evident. “You are seriously wanting to send her away? You’re supposed to be trying to-”

“How can I when she wants nothing to do with me, Helena!?”

“So sending her away is going to work!?”

“I’ve tried everything!”

“Just _STOP!!_ ”

The couple turned, seeing Dally’s distraught features glaring at them both. Tears streamed down her face as her dark blue eyes pooled like the deep ocean. Her lip quivered though she bit it to get her words out.

“Just stop, please.” She begged, blinking to let her tears out that quickly reformed. “Nothing is going to be the way it was, so stop pretending it will be. Both of you!”

She took a few quick breaths and spoke again.

“When I first saw you, dad, I wanted to hug you. Back at the Moore, I still remember those words. That you did this because you love me. I get why you truly did it now, but it still hurts. I want to have things go back to normal. I really, _really_ do!”

It was breaking not only Helena’s heart, but Sherlock’s. Seeing her pour her feelings out to him. How much he had hurt her for being dead for two years and then just expecting it to be nothing upon his return.

She sniffled, wiping her eyes to clear her sight better. “Every time I want to hug you, talk to you, or even look at you. I’m terrified I’ll get hurt and you’ll leave again.”

That’s what Dally was doing, they understood. She was keeping her distance to protect herself. Protect herself from her own father. Helena swallowed deeply and knelt down, placing a hand on her shoulder to give a small squeeze.

“You’re not the only one he hurt, Love.” she told, her own eyes starting to water up. “He hurt John, Mrs. Hudson, even Greg.” Dally sniffled a bit more, listening to her mother. “He also hurt me.”

Sherlock’s eyes darted to her, never really hearing her express anger towards the whole ordeal.

“You see,” She started. “During those two years, I held the guilt that it was my fault Sherlock died. That I forced those feelings down for your sake. So, when he came back, I… I felt betrayed.” Her voice cracked, taking her glasses off to wince as she wiped her eyes.

"Mum…”

“I kept the feeling back because I was just so thankful of having him back. Everyone had such a negative response, I wanted him to feel welcomed. Even if it meant I was hurting on the side.”

Helena stood, sniffling herself now as she stepped behind Dally, hands on her shoulders. She was smiling at Sherlock, giving Dally a comforting squeeze. “We all know it can’t go back to how it was before. But, maybe we can start something new, and better?”

Sherlock looked at the two girls- his two girls. The woman he loved and daughter he loved. Mycroft had warned him numerous times things were different, people were different, and nothing would be the same. For the first time, he should’ve listened to his brother.

Before him he saw Dally had grown from a spunky little curious eight year old to the independent matured eleven year old. Helena had changed from the ill tempered wild street tramp to a single mother dedicating her love to Dally and even him. 

“Dad?” Sherlock blinked out of his deep thoughts, brushing a tear that had stained his cheek. “I’m… I’m sorry. I want you in my life, I really do. I missed you a lot, wishing everyday to see you and for the whole thing to be a nightmare.”

He took a step and knelt down, seeing she had really grown in height. Where she reached Helena’s hip long ago, she was now near her shoulder in height. Sherlock was looking up at her once he lowered his height.

“Dally, I’m so sorry.” He told her, voice low and calm for her to hear how sincere he was. “I didn't mean anything I said before. I would never send you away, I couldn’t do that to you. Whatever you want to do, whatever is best for you. We’ll compromise.” He assured her.

Taking a risk, he reached for her hand, feeling relief that she didn't shake or tear away from him. He felt her hand squeeze his, bringing a small smile to his face.

“I love you so much Dally Holmes. I would do anything for you, being dead if it meant you’d be alive and safe. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but I’ll wait for as long as it takes.” His eyes shifted up to Helena, who was covering herself to keep from sobbing grossly at the sight before her. “Both of you.”

When Sherlock stood, he was suddenly engulfed at the waist and chest by hugs from the women in his life, his family. Dally hugged his waist as tightly as she could, while Helena squeezed around his chest, both hiding their faces into his coat. He let out a shuddering sigh, feeling weight lift despite the physical weight on him. Each of his hands raised to rest on each of their heads, holding them close to him as he rested his head down on Helena’s.

Charlie had left when stuff got really emotional, but watched from outside the stables. He didn't know if Dally would be staying or leaving, but so long as she was happy and with her family, that's all that mattered to his best friend.

“Wow, look at the crying freaks.” Charlie sighed and turned to his cousin showing expressions as if the display of the family’s love was disgusting. “They belong together.”

“Why are you such a jerk, Micheal?” He asked him, shrugging his shoulders at him. “If you were just nicer, we’d all get along.”

“Like I’d want to be friends with a ginger and a freak with her freakish family.” He spouted.

“What such open vocabulary, Mike.”

Charlie then felt the scruff of his shirt get bunched when a fist was raised into his sights in a threatening manner. “I just wanted to see the freak fall off the horse. It was hilarious the first time she broke her arm, seeing it again would’ve been even better!”

“Did I hear that right?” Micheal let Charlie go, who instinctively got out of his cousin's reach. Sherlock and his family, now put back together, approached the boys hearing what Micheal had said.

“You sabotaged the saddle on the horse my daughter was riding on for a mere jest?” Sherlock questioned, his eyes piercing into Micheal’s. The same stare he gave anyone who had done wrong by him. “I know a joke just as funny. It’s the two hundred and four ways to remove a body that not even God’s radiating light could find it.”

Charlie bit his lip to hide the snicker when Sherlock gave a big grin. “Want to see?”

That must have shaken Micheal up, for he stumbled over his feet screaming for his Aunt Diane as he ran off. Charlie instantly laughed, pausing when Dally came over to hug her friend.

“I would say that was harsh.” Helena spoke beside Sherlock, taking his hand into hers. She smirked at him, “But that was well deserved.”

“Do you really know that many ways to get rid of a body?” Charlie asked in awe as Dally stood by him.

“No, of course not.” He told, “two hundred and five.” he told giving the kids a wink.

Finally, a smile came through Dally’s lips seeing amusement and willing to respond well for her father.

It was indeed going to take time for the family to piece their emotions, life, and future back together. But, the start had finally begun for the small family to move forward and start anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it seems I rushed the reconciliation on the family. But don’t worry! We still got problems with John and the girls, along with Helena’s growing body image dilemma she seems to be having.
> 
> I’ll try to have the chapters longer. I might be accidentally making them shorter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How will Sherlock fix things between the girls and John? It’s one thing with Dally, but the rift on these guys are just as worse.
> 
> Enjoy and stay safe!!

“Yeah… Yeah things are going well. It was extremely emotional, but things are cooling down.”

Two days after that big emotional day, Helena was sitting in the living room on the couch talking to Mary on the phone. She enjoyed talking to Mary, so long as John wasn’t mentioned the conversation went well. Mary wanted to make sure things were going okay, since the reunion with Sherlock and John went… Splendidly.

“When Dally nearly fell off the horse, Sherlock just ran in as if he’d catch up to the horse, who was running about just as freaked out.” Helena explained.

She looked up seeing someone come join her and it was Sherlock. He frowned at the phone, curious who she was talking to. Helena mouthed ‘Mary’ and he nodded and sat at the couch and took his own phone out. Showing he had no interest in the call, Helena returned to her conversation. Dally was currently doing school work and Henry was somewhere in the house for sure.

“She’s alright now, everything is all calm and well.” She glanced at Sherlock, “Well, as calm as a Holmes family can be.” Sherlock gave a look indicating he was listening. “I will talk to her about it Mary- No, you’re not being a bother. Planning takes a lot so I understand getting an eager answer. We’re coming to London in a few days to have Dally settle back into the city and flat…. Yeah, okay. Alright, have a good night.”

Helena hung up and slouched in a lounge position letting her head press against Sherlock’s leg. “Had a good talk?” He asked when she gave a groan.

“I know you heard her question.” Helena took her glasses off and draped her arm over her eyes. “There’s just no rest from everything.”

Sherlock hummed, reaching down to pat her head as if a sad puppy with a ‘there there’ at her. She swatted his hand away, adjusting herself to rest her head in his lap. He looked down at her as she turned to nuzzle her face into his shirt, sighing with her eyes closed. His eyes scanned her face and put his phone down, gently pressed his hand onto her head, feeling the auburn strands of her hair between his fingers.

“Alright?” He asked, seeing how exhausted she had looked with her glasses off. A fade of dark circles were seen under her eyes, possibly fading in than out. “Trouble sleeping.”

“No shit,” She chuckled, feeling relaxed as he smoothed his fingers through her hair. “Was it the tossing and turning that gave it away or my ugly face?”

Sherlock leaned down planting a kiss on her hair, moving the fringes from her face. He gave another feather kiss on her cheek bringing her lips up to a wider smile. “This is nice, honestly. Never thought the great Sherlock Holmes would be so affectionate.”

True, just a few years ago Sherlock would not have liked to be touched or even think of the sentiment of another human being, let alone affection. Yet, here he was, wanting to show how much he loved Helena by touching her hair, kissing her flesh, and being within contact of her at any moment he could take. Make up for those lost two years and for how long it had taken him to admit his love- right before his fall.

“Things change.” Was his answer.

Helena responded, tossing her glasses at the end of the couch and leaning up to return the favor by kissing him full on his lips. His hand ventured to her back to support her position as she wrapped her arms around his neck, his free hand combing through the strands of her hair.

This was turning into a make out session, until-

“Dad?”

Both jolted by the sudden appearance of Dally, Sherlock stood knocking Helena with a yelp to the floor. He looked to his daughter, wiping his lips then down to help Helena up with apologies. Dally bit her lip, finding it funny how her parents were flustered showing affection in public- Even if it was just her.

“Yes?” He asked, clearing his throat. Helena reached for her glasses on the far end of the couch.

“Just something I wanted to clear up.” She said, stepping in and arouch the couch.

Sherlock offered her to sit down, which she did as Helena and Sherlock sat with her. “What is it, dear?” Helena asked, combing her hair back to fix it from her fall.

Dally hesitated, chewing the corner of her lip as her fingers tapped her knees. “There was something I wanted to know, with the whole ‘being dead’.”

Sherlock nodded, “Ask anything you want.” He encouraged her. Mostly expecting to ask how he succeeded in faking his death or how the plan was formulated. Since it seemed no one -but Anderson- wanted to know how the plan unfolded.

“Well, when that happened, there was a threat that I’d go into an orphanage when you ‘died’.” She explained.

Helena jumped in. “We got that sorted through, Dally. I adopted you.”

“Yeah, but did you really?” Helena frowned at her words, though Sherlock looked away. “He never died, so doesn’t that mean those adoption papers are fake or something?”

Helena shifted her seating and turned to look at Sherlock expecting the answer from him. “That is curious, how does that now work?”

Sherlock looked between the two, clearing his throat ready to tell. “Dally is correct, because it was all fake.”

So,” They turned back to Dally. “Should I stop calling you mum?”

Helena blinked, near hurt by the mere thought of no longer being called that. She’d grown to love having to hear Dally call her mum, it gave her a new purpose to keep her going to raise Dally in place for Sherlock. It was like a badge of honor to her.

“I mean, only if you don’t want to, sweetie.” Helena told softly, patting her hand that rested on her legs. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

Dally still held a distressed look, as her dark blue eyes, “Something else on your mind?” Sherlock asked, leaning forward.

“I want to make sure it’s not weird to you guys for me to call her mum. You guys aren’t married, so…” She trailed off, not wanting to get into any certain touchy subjects with them. “We’re not exactly as normal as that.” she joked.

The two chuckled, Sherlock nodding. “No, we’re not.” He agreed.

“I’d say we’re a bit better that way.” Helena said, having the two look at her. “Think about it. I was a homeless tramp, “She motioned her hand to the pre-teen. “Dally was sneaking out and picking locks in an orphanage,” Then turned to Sherlock. “And you… You’re an entire book alone.”

Sherlock raised a brow making her grin and shrug. “We’re all weird with our own weird quirks. I feel that makes us more unique, special, maybe even better than those average families.”

Dally raised her hands, “I’m not saying I rather be normal, trust me.” she told them. “I just want to know if it’s okay I still call you mum. Since-” She shrugged. “You’re the first ever real one in my life. So, I want to keep doing so.”

Helena bit her lip and shifted closer to hug Dally close to her. “Of course you can.” She told, kissing her temple and pulling back.

“She is still your mother, Dally.” Sherlock informed the two women who looked at him. “The death was fake, but not the papers.”

“Then, my legal papers, you both are my parents.” Dally determined to earn a nod from Sherlock.

“Wait, wait,” Helena took a moment to think this through. “Wait- I know Mycroft can loophole every legal subject under the crown. But, isn’t that illegal? Don’t we have to be married with those adoption papers?”

Dally looked between them, until Sherlock shook his head with a simple, “Nope.” Helena raised a brow. “According to the courts, and I quote, ‘You need to have been living as a family for at least six months before applying for an adoption order’. You were, making it verified as legal.”

Helena frowned doing the math in her head real quick. She had actually ‘lived’ at the flat for seven months before Sherlock’s fall. It almost felt too far ahead of the plan, or was it just pure coincidence? Sherlock continued.

“You said before that a case could take my life. I didn't take those words lightly, I seriously thought through that if anyone can be trusted to take her in, it’d be you.” He told, leaning over to kiss her temple.

Helena blinked, it had been so long ago. What she thought were words that she prayed to never be proven true, he took them to heart and made sure things were the best for Dally should a case take his life from her’s. She sighed through her nose and slouched back against the couch leaning her head back.

“You okay, mum?” Dally asked.

“Yes.” Helena nodded, “Just thankful.” she muttered.

Sherlock’s phone pinged, making him frown at the ID on the screen. “What time do we leave?” Dally asked.

“Early morning, so make sure your alarm is set around 7am.” She told, her exhaustion brought back in her voice. She raised her head, looking to Dally. “Do you want to wait a bit longer?”

“Won’t have time to.” They turned as Sherlock, who was staring down at his phone. “Lestrade texted me, a bizarre case as shown up. We leave tonight.”

“Tonight!?” The girls jumped.

Sherlock nodded, jumping to his feet and striding up and stairs. “Pack, we leave in twenty minutes!” He called.

“Sherlock-”

“Twenty minutes!”

The two women looked at each other, Helena took a breath. So much for taking it slow.

* * *

Helena knew how excited Sherlock can be over a strange case, and strange this one was. A man had been found dead with the skin and muscle skinned off all his fingers. Helena was disgusted by the description, but why would that gain his interest? Maybe Sherlock was finding an excuse to go back to London sooner than later in the week.

Dally was nervous of her leave, but Helena tried to be optimistic. She can talk to Charlie on her phone if she wants to, and brought her laptop for school work. Charlie was going to be heading to Canada at the end of the week, but he wouldn’t be there forever. Just until New Year’s.

Because Sherlock was too eager to leave, he had failed to check the times for the train to London. Dragging Helena and Dally to the station with a hastey goodbye to Henry, now they sat at the station with their luggage as Sherlock was restless. The only case he had done since he got back was a terroristic threat given by his brother, but also the last job to destroy Mority’s network. This was his official first interesting case since his return. He wanted to examine the body as soon as possible, muttering how forensics would ruin the evidence and scene. He was half tempted to call John to go to the crime scene, but with it being near 2am now, Helena convinced him not to.

The next train would arrive around 3am, taking them to London by 5am. Sherlock wanted to get to the morgue, letting Dally get her sleep at the flat with Helena. Hell, the pre-teen was nodding off against her mother’s shoulder right now.

“We could’ve gotten the train earlier if Lestrade had contacted me sooner.” He grumbled pacing back and forth on the platform.

Helena moved her arm around Dally’s shoulder for her to snuggle into her. “He did text you when he first found the body, right?” She asked.

Sherlock shrugged, “Give or take an hour, apparently.” he told her. “He was hesitant on calling.”

Helena sighed, crossing her legs at the ankles, letting them extend out. “Sounds pretty tame, Sherlock. Then again, possibly the most grotesque case you’ve had.” She shook her head. “Fingers down to the bone.”

“I was looking over the photos he sent, the bones are bleached clean. Not a single drop of blood found on them, clean as a whistle.” He explained, taking his phone out and swiping his finger through his photos. “I need to examine the body first hand to determine anything else.”

Once she noticed he was about to show the photos, she leaned back and waved her head, “No, no. I rather keep dinner down, thank you.” She told, looking around to avoid the screen he almost shoved in her face.

Sherlock slid the phone into his breast pocket and returned to his pacing. She yawned, earning his attention to pause. “Take your pill?” He asked.

She nodded, adjusting her seating. The wooden bench was dreadfully uncomfortable. “Dally and I will nap and get our sleep at the flat. You and John have your fun once we get to London.”

Almost as if willed to be there, the rumbling sounds of the train had finally arrived. Helena woke Dally as Sherlock took their luggage onto the train. They took a car and Dally curled onto a ball taking a whole seat and using her bag as a pillow. Sherlock and Helena sat across from her, Helena leaning against Sherlock’s shoulder to sleep. Just as Helena moved for Dally, Sherlock lifted his arm to allow her to get comfortable. After a while, the train shifted and left toward London.

During the ride, Dally tossed and turned, nearly falling off the chair and pressed up against the back of the seat. Helena moved to resting her head in Sherlock’s lap, using her coat as a blanket. It was chilly on the train, then again it was chilly in general that night, or even this time of year. Sherlock stared out the window, the warmth of Helena against his legs was willing him to fight sleep. He wanted to get onto this case, like an impatient child to get to the toy store. He’s gone days without food and sleep on a case, but hearing the comfortable hums of the sleep around him, warmth against his body, and rocking of the train; sleep was tempting. He took his phone out, checking the time as 3:47am. The train took a while to leave, they might arrive in London around half past five instead. He closed his clock app and got the gallery app up to look over the photos again. He zoomed in and looked as close enough details as he could of the photos Lestrade had taken. Maybe he should’ve ignored Helena and called John to inspect the scene himself. He assured himself 4am would be appropriate enough time to wake him up.

The sun wouldn’t rise for another two hours, as the small family arrived early morning in London. Dally was groggy and led by Helena, who in turn was led by Sherlock, to the cab towards 221b. The ride was short to the girls dozing on and off and arriving at the flat. Sherlock brought the luggage in, holding the cab as he helped get Dally into his bed and Helena tucking her in.

“I’ll be back by the afternoon.” He told, meeting Helena at the top of the landing. “Get some sleep, call if anything happens.”

Helena smiled and leaned up to peck his lips. “We’ll be fine. Go before John falls asleep waiting for you.”

Off Sherlock went, down the stairs and out the door. Helena moved to the window to see him climb into the cab and watched the car drive away down the street, no doubt picking John up. Helena let a yawn out and moved into the bedroom and got herself in bed beside Dally.

The morgue was, of course, open and entered Sherlock with a yawning John.

* * *

“This really couldn’t wait til the sun came up?” He asked, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Haven’t woken this early since Afghanistan.” 

“Out of practice.” Sherlock teased, opening the door for them to enter the room the body was held in. “Morning, Molly.”

“Sorry for the late night call,” John apologized. “Or morning, really.”

“No worries. I’ve been curious about the body myself.” Molly told, snapping her gloves on. She moved to the body bag as the two men approached, unzipping it.

“Kenneth Petral, age 37. Found dead outside a flat, fingers skinned to the bone with a rusty weapon.” The men frowned. “There were remnants of rust found on the remaining flesh of the hand. Just an assumption.” She explained.

Sherlock got out his magnifier and gently dug the hand out, looking at the bones of the hands. They were indeed bleached white and clean, no blood stains remained. He tried to find anything else, but he did see specks of red orange rust on the skin of the knuckles. What caught his attention, was the tendon was hardened but still attached to the bones keeping them together.

“I see why it got you to take the first train back.” John told, frowning at the sight of the hands. 

Sherlock’s eyes gazed up the arm, her brows furrowed at the hint of something on the wrist. Lifting the victim’s arms, Sherlock found words had been carved into the skin. He gently put it down then walked around and did the same for the other arm, finding words carved into it as well. John stepped closer, turning his head left and right to read the words.

UG **L** Y. DI **S** GUS **T** ING. HID **E** OUS.  **R** EP **U** LSIV **E** . T **W** IS **T** ED.  **R** EVOL **T** ING.  **W** RA **P** PED. MUNT **E** R. 

The words carved into his skin repeated over and over. What was strange, the man wasn’t what many would call an ugly. His facial features were clean, nose was sharp, and skin was flawlessly smooth.

“These were done after his death. Which was, Molly?” Sherlock asked.

“We’re believing it was cardiac arrest, due to torture.” She explained. “On the back of his neck, there are burn marks.”

“John.” He looked up to Sherlock.

He motioned his finger in a circle, John looked to the body and let his arms fall from behind him as he sent a look. “No.”

“We need to see his neck.”

“You flip him.”

“We both can flip him.”

“I’m not flipping him.”

During this argument, Molly moved another table and rolled it beside the victim. She took the shoulder of the man and rolled him halfway onto his side, using both tables to support his weight. The grunts and sound of the metal caught the men’s attention. Molly sent a look, stepping away and pointing to the back of the neck.

“There are the marks.” She sighed, stepping aside for them to see.

John and Sherlock stole a look at one another, before walking over to the body to examine the neck. There the men saw the nape had a coin size burn, the flesh black and melted through even into the vertebrae.

“No taser could do this, it’s like he was melted through.” John said.

Sherlock agreed, “A laser of some sort.” his eyes shifted from the arms to the neck. “The killer used the same tool to carve the letters into the arm. Not a knife or sharp weapon, but a laser.”

“Is this killer sending a message?” John asked.

Sherlock wanted to say yes, but might be too early to tell. The type of death was unusual, possibly to torture the victim to death. They carved the words into his flesh after death, and then shaved his fingers down to the clean bone. Sherlock’s eyes strained back to the arms, narrowing them. He had noticed some letters are thicker in certain words. Sherlock rolled him back over and took his phone out to take proper pictures of each word on his arms.

“How was he found?” John asked.

Molly turned to him. “A resident of the flat was taking her trash out, found him in front of the bins.” She explained. “Because of the rain, there was no other evidence, and no other DNA on the body.”

Sherlock put his phone away. “None from the rust?” John asked.

Molly shook her head, “If there was, the bleach used to clean his fingers might have eliminated it.” she told him.

John was perplexed, “Where do we go from here?” He asked Sherlock.

“Where indeed.”

* * *

Sherlock had gone back to the flat, allowing John to return home. He informed Molly to let him know if anything else was found. John questioned if he should join him, but declined. He didn't want another fight between him and Helena like once before, so he thought best to deal with this case then fix things between the two.

Right now, he went through the main room, pinning up printed photos he had taken and the ones Lestrade sent him over the couch. Like he had before with the last case he solved. Sherlock scanned over them, then took the small notebook off his desk and wrote down the letters he saw etched out thicker and grotesque looking.

L, S, T, E, R, U, E, W, T, R, T, W, P, E

Sherlock stepped back, sitting in his chair and folding himself into his Mind Palace. The letters came up, tilting his head to unscramble into a word. He kept going at it, leaning back in his chair and pressing his finger tips to get any words out of it.

Step, were, luster, wept, true, twerp, rue, lute, lept, trust.

L, ̶S̶,̶ ̶T̶,̶ E, R̶,̶ ̶U̶,̶ E, W, T̶,̶ R, T, W, P, E

Trust, but the remaining words made nothing other than Peter, with two W’s to spare.

Sherlock restarted, taking the word ‘wept’ out and looked over the remaining letters.

L, S, T̶,̶ ̶E̶,̶ R, U, E, ̶W̶,̶ ̶T̶,̶ R, T, W, P, E

The remaining letters made ‘repulser’ or ‘wrestle’ and to another dead end.

Sherlock continued this finding more than two hundred words and all led to nothing afterwards. He refused to accept that these letters could make all one word. The amount of vowels and even the damned W's threw him off completely.

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips, throwing his head back to glare at the ceiling. He let his mind go silent for a few seconds when he sat up, finding he wasn’t alone. Sitting across from him was his daughter, Dally, knees curled up and watching him intently in John’s old chair. The two stared at one another, a small contest created between father and daughter. His blue eyes shifted above her head, where he spotted Helena moving about in the kitchen. They must have woken up a few minutes ago, Helena taking the chance to make something for them. He looked down at his wrist watch seeing it had been around noon. So he was working for a good while.

“Difficult case?” Dally asked, rubbing her thumbs on her knees.

“Just started it,” He answered looking back at her. Sherlock got to his feet and looked at the photos once more on the wall. “Trying to find a message.”

Dally got up and stood beside her father. “The ones on his arms?”

“Yes.”

He gave her a moment to read the words on the arms, her head tilting a few times as the words were upside down or curved around the arms in certain ways. Then she looked at the photo of the man’s face, her brows shooting up.

“I know him!”

Sherlock fully turned to her, “Pardon?” how could she know him.

“Well, I don’t  _ know, _ know him. Hold on.” She ran into the bedroom just as Helena peeked out of the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” She asked.

Sherlock was to answer, when Dally bounded back with her mom’s laptop in hand. “Here, from this.” She placed the laptop on the table and he followed looking over her shoulder.

Dally was on Youtube showing a few listed videos about a reality show called ‘Plastic, ‘Tastic!’ She scrolled down and clicked on a video that had been posted a few months ago.

_ “This week on ‘Plastic Tastic!’, we take a special request from a man who wishes to change his life from chav to chad!” _ Came a female announcer as the title card flew in.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Helena came over to Dally’s other side, looking at the video with him.

_ “We take Kenny Petral here,”  _ A photo showed up of what was Kenny Petral. Hair looked filled with grease, nose was bulbous, cheeks were ridden with blemishes and chin stuck out. It was like he wasn’t the same person Sherlock had inspected that morning. _ “And make him the charming Prince of London!” _

“Dally, do you watch this rubbish?” Helena asked, pausing the video.

Dally rolled her eyes, “Maybe.” She told. “You already don’t let me watch Gorden Ramsey’s shows.”

“Rather you not watch garbage telly.” Sherlock muttered as he reached over to type in the search bar for the show. 

Helena looked at the wall, seeing the photos. She walked over examining them, adjusting her glasses. “This is the victim?”

“Yup.”

Dally joined her mother, “His arms are carved in, see?” She pointed out.

Helena nodded, tilting her head like Dally had to read them. She frowned, turning to see Sherlock’s notebook opened on the table with letters scribbled. Helena checked the book, the letters were scrambled, her brain already trying to make words out of them.

“Already tried.” He said, seeing her in his peripheral.

She looked to him, “Yet nothing?” she asked.

“Until Dally interrupted.”

Dally glared at him. “I was silent as the dead, dad.”

“I heard you thinking.” He accused.

“No you didn't.” She argued.

Helena let them bicker as she looked back down at the letters. If Sherlock hadn’t figured what they spell yet, best to leave it be. She put the book back and nudged Dally toward the kitchen.

“Let’s eat and leave Sherlock to the case, Dally.”

Dally moved to Sherlock’s other side as he scrolled through the website of the show. “I want to watch dad solve a case.”

“Well, I want you to eat something, you haven’t had a meal since before we left yesterday.” Helena called for her as she returned to the kitchen.

Dally didn't move, she leaned onto the table watching Sherlock’s eyes scan the screen up and down. She had remembered years ago that Sherlock would take her on a case one day, she felt she was old enough to go with him. Maybe even assist and solve the case with him. If it also helped reconnect, Dally was willing to solve a case to do so.

“You’re not coming, Dally.” Sherlock spoke up. He reached for his notebook and wrote down the address he had found. “Stay here with Helena.”

Dally frowned, crossing her arms. “Didn't you bring us to solve this case?”

“I brought you back so you could get accustomed to the city again.”

“Then what a better way then to venture out into the city, and solve a case?” She threw at him.

Sherlock put the notebook into his blazer pocket and marched over to the door to the landing. He moved it to access his coat and scarf hanging behind it. “The last thing I need to focus on is your safety, Helena’s, and the case.” He threw the coat on, slipping his long arms through the sleeves and knotted the scarf around his neck.

“You’re more than welcome to venture through the city.” Sherlock told her.

Dally huffed, “So stay here in the duty ridden flat or wander about in the city?” she questioned.

“Precisely.” Sherlock walked over, pressing a kiss to her head then to the kitchen to talk to Helena.

Dally heard him ask about the address, possibly asking what route would be the best. As she heard Helena respond, Dally opened the laptop and checked the address he had written down. Then she opened a new tab and searched ‘new murders recently London’ and going down, she had found a murder that occured yesterday. The description of the death matched the photos. Dally went through the drawers finding a pad of paper and a pen. She quickly wrote down the address of where the victim was found. Looking at the photos, Dally yanked one off the wall and glanced over to the kitchen.

Sherlock smiled at Helena, getting his answer and shared a quick kiss with her. She told him to be careful and then he bounded out, down the stairs, and out of the flat.

“Dally!”

The pre-teen jolted and shoved the photo behind her back. “Yes?”

“Why not give Mrs. Hudson a greeting?” She asked, coming into the room. “There’s no good food here, and I know she’ll have something baked freshly for you.”

“You gonna join us?” Dally asked.

Helena sighed, reaching up to scratch her head. “I was gonna head to the market and get some supplies. Would you rather come with me?”

Dally thought of her answer, then smiled and shook her head. “No thanks, dad might be on this case for a while so I have time to see the city.” She told her. “I’ll pop down and see Mrs. Hudson.”

Helena smiled and walked over, planting a kiss where Sherlock had done a moment ago. “Thanks to handling this, Sweetie. I know it’s hard for all this change.” Dally smiled and gave her mom a quick hug. 

Helena got properly dressed in fresh clothing and left for the market, getting a cab. Dally watched from the window. Once she counted up to five minutes after Helena’s departure, Dally herself left the flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to address the recent news of the storming of terrorist protesters at the U.S. Capital. Anyone of you living in the area, NOT part of the protest, please stay safe! Please stay safe, officials in the capital! A civil war may be upon us, we’ve lost too many people thanks to COVID, Trump’s action, and the cursed year of 2020 already. We can’t lose any more innocent lives this year!
> 
> We have 14 or so days to Biden’s entry as our 46th President. Trump should be taken out of the office from this terrorist attack he sent upon the capital! Bless you all and be safe and stay safe!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just trying to get a feel of who goes where. Been planning this case arc for over a year or so now. So I want to execute it as perfectly as possible for you guys!!
> 
> Enjoy!!

Maybe leaving before eating was a bad idea. 

Dally tried to focus on the directions to get to where the crime scene was, but with her stomach eating itself, she couldn’t pay attention to the street names. How her father managed to go on for days without food to get his cases solved would be a mystery.

Her hunger took over leading her to a small cafe on a street corner. Dally checked her wallet seeing she had a few bills of her allowance. When she looked over the menu through the glass, she estimated to afford a small cup of tea. The meals were expensive and now seeing the people going in, it looked to be one of those fancy coffee houses.

Dally wandered around and spotted a small cheaper diner across the street. She jogged passed the slow traffic and went inside seeing it was average on customer amount. Not too empty but not too packed. Dally helped herself to a clean table, took a menu from the side and looked over what they had, including their prices. She remembered meals being much cheaper back at Cross Keys, then again she got discounted prices. Dally ordered herself just some eggs with toast and a side of jam, treating herself to a glass of chocolate milk.

She paid for the meal with no fuss from the kind waitress left the building ready to-

“Dally?”

The girl froze, having the world’s most uncommon name meant no one could make the mistake of calling someone else. Dally found herself face to face with John Watson just as she let the door swing behind her. A tall blonde woman was standing beside him, the two of their hands intertwined and a ring found on her finger.

John himself was just as stunned, at first he assumed it was some kid skipping school. But her reaction to the name confirmed this pre-teen was the Dally he used to know, the little girl, now much taller and mature looking. Her eyes were smaller and her hair was longer. She once was about four foot something, she seemed now to nearly be a whole foot taller!

“Oh, this is Dally Holmes?” The blond smiled down at the shell-shocked pre-teen. “I’ve been dying to meet you, heard so much about you from John and Helena.” She held a hand out in a kind greeting. “I’m Mary.”

Dally was taught to respect those older than her, especially if they were kind to her. Mary was just that, so Dally gave a bashful smile and took her hand in a small shake. “H-hi, I’m Dally.”

Mary giggled as her eyes crinkled much like Helena’s did when she grinned widely at her father. “The photos Helena showed me didn't do you justice!” Dally’s head tilted, trying to mentally block the look John was bestowing her. “You really could be taken as Sherlock’s birth daughter.”

A red blush crawled up her neck as she was honored by such a comment. “Y-Yeah, I’ve gotten that a lot. Well, it was nice seeing you but I’m off-”

Before she could leave John broke from his state and held her shoulder, keeping her in place. “Dally wait- Hold on a minute.” Dally turned. “Does Sherlock know you’re wandering the streets alone?” he asked.

Dally shrugged, “In a way… No. But, he said I could check out the city while here.” She nodded her head. “Like, learning the city streets and knowing where everything is.”

John nodded, his hand left Mary’s as he folded his arms. “That so?”

“Yup!”

John’s brows went up, “Helena?” that tone wasn’t good to her. “Is  _ she _ alone as well?”

Mary turned to him, “I’d imagine if Sherlock brought Dally, he’d bring Helena back as well.” she figured.

John turned to her, “Helena  _ shouldn’t  _ be alone in this city.” he took his phone out ready to call Sherlock.

Dally tried to stop John, waving her arms about as if flagging a cab. “No, no! Mum said she was out food shopping for the flat. Since Dad tends to… not keep food in the house. She’s fine.”

“No, she’s not. How could he allow Helena to wander around alone?” John accused, throwing his hand up. “She doesn’t know how much the city has changed and her sight is worse!”

“She can still see.” Dally argued, folding her arms. “She doesn’t want to talk to you, anyway. Neither do I.”

Mary knew that there was tension between John and Helena, but the same with him and Dally was unknown to her. “John, I think Helena will be fine. She was on her own when we met after all.”

“That’s different.” John turned to his fiance.

Mary gave a look, “How was that different then her being alone today?” she questioned him.

While John struggled to find a reason, Dally took advantage of the couple squabbling to scurry across the street and join the traffic of people on a lunch break. She reminded herself to be more careful, who knows who else she could bump into.   
  


* * *

  
After Helena finished her shopping, she returned to the flat to put the groceries away. Helena found the said flat empty, she decided to head into the bedroom with a bag she had gotten when doing some side shopping. Before Helena hit the food market, she had found herself outside a dress shop and was curious to see how she looked in a dress. Though she didn't have time to play dress up in the shop, a kind woman helped her find something to try on at home. If Helena didn't like it, she could take it right back. The dress was a long flowing A-line V-neck floor length, with thin sleeves and covered her body well. She undressed and slipped it on, letting it fold and mold against her shape.

Helena felt extremely weird, like she had put on someone else's skin that made her shudder. The dress was beautiful on the hanger, but on her… She looked like she was wrapped up in a table cloth. Helena opened the dresser and looked into the mirror, stepping back. Her butt looked too big, her arms looked too long for the sleeves, and her breasts looked too small that the front sort of sat there. Her shoulders hung as she turned, but her heart skipped when she spotted a feature in the dress; a front slit. She stuck her leg out, shocked to see the slit reached too much up her thigh! Any certain moves and her under garments would be seen for sure!

“Dresses are so scandalous these days.” She muttered, toying with the fabric to tilt her hips left and right. Helena chuckled to herself, imaging this to be an outfit to wear in her younger days.

“Would’ve have gotten many more customers for sure.”

The ends of the dress folded at the floor, but when she stood on her toes, Helena determined heels would help. But after seeing the slit, she shook her head, moving to the bed. “No way, this is  _ not _ wedding guest material.”

Her phone started to go off, it's ringtone blaring in the other room. She lifted the dress and carefully padded toward the door until the sound of the door downstairs slammed shut. Helena recognized the footsteps, they were Sherlock’s!

She slammed the door and pressed her back, the footsteps paused, but only a second.

“Dally?” He called. “Try not to be too rough with the doors.”

Helena cursed herself, if she hurried out of this dress he won’t see how ridiculous she looks. Okay, no problem! The dress isn’t hard to get out of, just slip it off and get right back into her jeans and jumper.

Just as she stepped toward the end of the bed, her feet got tangled in the folds. Helena slipped and fell forward, giving a small yelp as she nearly kissed the wooden floor.

“Helena?” Shit! She could hear Sherlock’s rushed footsteps, no doubt thinking she got badly hurt. “Are you alri-”

Just as the door opened, Helena scrambled off the floor and threw her body into the door to prevent him from coming in. “Yeah, yeah, Sherlock! Just tripped, no need to fuss!”

She was sure he was frowning as his shoulder pressed against the wood. “Are you sure?”

Damned her sight, probably worried over that. If it wasn’t for the disgusting black spot in her eye he would’ve brushed this off already. “Yeah, I just tripped over my shoes.” she heaved a sparing chuckle. “Stupid me, I’ll be more careful.”

“Helena, is something wrong in there?” He asked, feeling her press more to get the door to shut. “I’m here to help if you need it.”

“I know, and I love you for that!” She peeked her head through the crack to smile before ducking back out. “Just need a bit of privacy, please? I had a tiring day from shopping and needed to rest.”

Sherlock eased off the door, allowing Helena to close the damn thing and even clicked the lock. After a few seconds he responded, “Very well, I’ll keep it down out here.”

The descending of his footsteps allowed her to slide to the floor and heave a large sigh. Too close, she thought. But Sherlock was not stupid, he would question her for that no doubt. Without hesitation, she got up and removed the dress and packed it back away. Shoving it under the bed, Helena mentally noted to return that damn thing next time Sherlock heads out. She was sure he was still working on the case, hearing him muttering as she zipped up her jeans and pulled on her jumper.

Once her heart eased, she unlocked the door and left the bedroom, Sherlock was found in the kitchen putting the foods she had left out away. Helena bit her inner cheek, completely forgetting about the cold foods that should’ve been put in the fridge.

“You must have been extremely exhausted to forget putting all this away.” He noted, putting the various cans and jars away and disposing of the plastic bags.

Helena tittered to herself, her hands gripping the cuffs of her long jumper and swinging her arms. “Yeah, been a while since I walked that much.” She excused, he turned leaning back against the counter. “So, how’s the case going?”

That seemed to have worked, as Sherlock drummed his fingers against the edge and glanced to the other room. “Dreadful, Plastic ‘Tastic was a dead end.”

“What happened?” She asked, stepping up to him.

“John and I went to that studio and informed us that they just take ugly people and make them beautiful. But the plastic surgeon was in a different location. We went there and a lawsuit closed them down last week due to side effects of the botox they used.” He explained.

Helena frowned, “But they weren’t connected to the murder?”

“No.”

Helena moved to stand beside him, holding her hands in front of him in thought. “Did they know why he wanted it done?” He glanced down at her. “Kenny; Why did he want the surgery?”

Sherlock shrugged, bringing a hand to comb through his dark curls that bounced back. “The typical ‘get the ladies’ tactic. Clearly he didn't have a chance pre-surgery.”

Helena frowned this time, “He got that surgery to go from ugly to handsome, and never got one woman’s attention?” she questioned.

Sherlock’s brows suddenly shot up, he hadn’t thought about that. “No, he would have, wouldn’t he? He had months before his death to score with as many women as possible- Helena! That’s it!”

He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her quickly before rushing into the other room. She was in a sport of a daze before joining him as she typed quickly on his laptop. “That's it, what?”

“Of course he would've gotten with at least one woman, or two. What if he got tangled with too many and one of these women killed him for his womanizing campaign?” His fingers flew as he found the man’s Facebook account.

Sherlock paused to take his phone out and send a text to someone, possibly John or Greg. Helena sat down in her chair and tucked her knees up, watching. “It makes sense, but what about the letters?”

“Possibly might spell out one of the women’s names. I’ll need Lestrade to question each woman he has in his friends list.”

“How many?”

Sherlock placed his phone down and scrolled the screen page for a few moments before finally reaching the bottom. “Sixty-eight.”

“Sixty-eight!?” Helena jumped to her feet. “You expect him to find and question each woman in that friend listing?”

“No, only the ones with deep connections. Just need to thin the crowd before giving him the names.” Sherlock took a seat and got to work scoping out each of the sixty-eight women as possible suspects for Kenny’s murder.

“Seeing as this’ll be a while. Shall I plan dinner? It is getting dark-” Helena looked to him as she moved toward the kitchen. “Right?”

“Yes, Darling.” He answered, assuring her it was getting late.

She nodded and stepped through the kitchen and toward the stairs. “I’ll let Dally know.”

Helena walked downstairs, not waiting for a humming response from Sherlock. He went through each woman’s photos, posts, replies, and other activities. Anyone that had photos with the man he added to the list for questioning. He had gone through five women and listed three when Helena returned. She went up the stairs where John’s room once was and would be Dally’s eventually. Sherlock finished two more when Helena bounded back down.

“Sherlock, Dally’s not here.”

His head shot up and fingers paused. “What?”

“Dally’s not with Mrs. Hudson.” She paced into the room and looked out the window. “She told me Dally never visited her. Which means she’s out in the city  _ alone _ !”

Sherlock got to his feet and picked up his phone, calling a number and standing by the fireplace. After a few seconds, the line clicked. “Mycroft- I don’t care what meeting you’re currently attending. I need you to be useful and find Dally.”

Helena turned, if anyone had eyes on the city beside her, it was Mycroft. He could access the cameras around the city, and pinpoint where Dally could be.

“Yes, she’s in London, as is Helena. Dally left the flat-” He turned to Helena.” When?”

“About ten minutes after you left I did, so she might’ve left the same amount of time after me.” She told, shrugging nervously as she knotted her fingers into the threads of her sleeves.

“About twenty after twelve P.M., by foot I’m sure.” Mycroft’s response was muffled, then silent for a while then muffled again. “I don’t need advice on how to leash my daughter, Mycroft.”

Helena rolled her eyes, she was ready to snap at him herself. “I’m going to call Greg, see if he can find her too.” She picked her phone up off the coffee table, seeing a missed call and text from Mary. She quickly read it, but groaned at it.

“Mary and John ran into her.” She told Sherlock, who looked over. “Mary tried to call and texted me an hour ago.”

Mycroft’s voice came through, Sherlock nodded at his words and turned back to her. “Mycroft says she was on Farringdon Rd. at that time.” His eyes landed on the wall where his photos for the case where, now noticing a photo had been missing. “I know where she is.”

Helena’s head shot up, “What? Where?” she pocketed her phone, close to dialing Greg as Sherlock hung up on his brother.

“She’s gone to the crime scene- Damnit!” Sherlock cursed as she grabbed his coat that was tossed onto his chair.

“Of course she wouldn’t listen. There’s a killer out there and she doesn’t know this city, Sherlock! We have to go find her!” Helena got her coat as well while Sherlock phoned someone.

“Lestrade, this is an emergency. I need you to send out some competent officers, Dally is-”

Suddenly the front door shut down stairs, the parents stood stock still as the slow patter of footsteps echoed up. Soon the door opened and Dally stepped up and shivered from being out in the cold. The pre-teen turned and found Helena and Sherlock staring at her, shocked she was alive and Back at the flat.

“Oh, hey Mum. Hey dad,” she waved nervously, seeing their sights narrow down at her. “...Case going good?”

Lestrade could be heard barking at Sherlock, asking what the hell was he going on about. “Cancel that, Lestrade. I’ll call you back another time.” He hung up and tossed the phone onto the table.

“Where the  _ bloody hell _ where you!?” Helena barked, her coat haphazardly on. “We were about to send a search party!”

“A search party? I was wandering the city, Dad said I could.”

Sherlock stalked over, standing with Helena. “You know very well what I meant, with your mother. How stupid can you be, to leave this flat alone, all by yourself?”

Dally shrugged, “I don’t see the big deal. I’m back, alive and no scratches on me.” She rolled up her sleeves as if proof enough. “I just got something to eat and-”

“And tried to investigate my case on your own.”

Dally went dead silent, judging by both looks of her parents, she didn't know which would give her a harder time over this. 

“Did you honestly think you could poke around a crime scene? Think you could see or solve something I couldn’t, well you’re wrong.” He held his hand out, curling his fingers in a ‘give me motion’. “The photo.”

Dally frowned, feeling personally attacked by his words. “You don’t know that. After all, you wouldn’t have known to check that show studio without-”

“That led to a dead end and a waste of my time.  _ Now _ , the photo.”

The pre-teen scoffed, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. “Maybe you didn't ask the right questions.” She huffed under her breath.

Sherlock squinted at her. “What was that?”

Helena pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache was coming on. “Dally, do not talk back to your father and just give him the photo.”

Dally pouted and took the folded photo and slapped it into his hand harshly. Sherlock grumbled at the crease the folding made and pinned it back up after flattening it the best he could.

Dally turned and went for the stairs, “Hey, we’re not done here.” Helena called, removing her own coat as did Sherlock deeming themselves in for the night- Until Sherlock would get a lead.

The child stomped back down the step and moved toward the couch. “What?” She snapped.

Helena was taken back, she’d gotten into spats with her before, but never had she acted this way. “What do you mean, ‘what’? You had us scared to death something happened to you.”

“Like what? You never minded me being out on my own back in Dartmoore.” She argued.

Helena placed her hands on her hips. “Dartmoore is not a city filled with loads of people ready to snatch you off the street. Not to mention, there's a killer on the loose that Sherlock is trying to catch.”

“So? He’s not after little girls.” She shrugged.

“We don’t know that! Ugh!” Helena rubbed her head and sat down, her headache growing worse. Dally felt a tad of guilt over her temper, causing Helena pain.

Sherlock took over, stepped in front of her. “Dally, until I solve this case, I do not want you to leave this flat, alone. Understood?”

“What!?” She jumped up and glared up at him. “That’s not fair!”

“ _ I _ find it fair, and that’s  _ final _ . You are my daughter and you will do as you’re told.” Sherlock snapped, hands folded behind his back as he stared down at her. “Is that clear?”

Her fists balled up and she felt the anger she had the other day when he first came back into her life. Logic and irrationality seemed to have taken over her brain with the sudden anger boiling in her stomach. Without thinking, she barked at her him.

“Then I wish you weren’t my father!!”

The brunette bounded up the stairs and slammed the door hard. Helena looked up to Sherlock as he took a deep breath and sighed once he sat down in his chair. He leaned back and brought his hands over his face, heaving another stressful sigh. Helena felt bad, she got out of her chair and knelt down between his legs, wrapping her arms around his firm waist. He brought a hand down to her head, combing her hair as he sighed a third time to relax at her touch.

“Kids say the stupidest things, don’t they?” She asked, resting her head on his chest. “I think I remember saying the same thing to my mum once or twice.”

He scoffed, her head bouncing off his chest as he spoke. “But you’re mother is a twat.”

“...True.” She nodded.

Helena sighed and moved into his lap, moving his hand off his face allowing him to see her. “She’s hitting the mark, and I feel we’re ill prepared for it.”

“The mark?”

Helena raised a brow, her hand moving across his chest feeling his tense muscles under his shirt, the other moving behind his head. “That fun little time in every child’s life when puberty hits. And for girls, it’s not as fun as the boys.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and let out a tired groan as he threw his head back. “Lord, she can’t be at that point yet.”

Helena tilted her head, humming at him. “She could very well be, it starts early in girls compared to boys. Soon she’ll be screaming at us for no reason, crying over acne, and maybe even start dating.”

“Please, don’t tell me any more.” He begged, rubbing his eyes as he tried to block those thoughts out.

Dally had only been eight when he adopted her, and seeing her grow up so fast while he was gone was a slap in the face enough for him. Imagining her as a young woman wasn’t too hard, and soon she’d be a grown adult and out on her own. He was starting to feel the effects of regret for not spending as much time as he could with her before the Fall.

A harsh pat on his chest brought him back, looking up at a grinning Helena. “This is the bright side,  _ you  _ get to threaten the date while  _ I  _ have to teach her about periods. Who gets the fun job in the end?”

Sherlock grimaced, she wasn’t wrong there. He hadn’t thought about the level of hormonal balance in his life when adopting Dally and professing his desire to live with Helena. It didn't help that John had moved out and was living with his own partner.

He was outnumbered.  
  


* * *

  
Dally’s room wasn’t as furnished as her other room was at Henry’s, but there was a bed for her to lay on and a pillow to cry in. Her emotions were riding a rough rollercoaster, feeling anger towards her parents. Her dad was being ridiculous, keeping her held up in the flat. So what, everytime a case was on she’d be locked up until solved? He’s the one that wanted her back here, now he was shoving her away again. He’s the one that mentioned taking her onto a case when she was only eight, now that she was nearly twelve, it was too dangerous?

Dally huffed and sat up, wiping her face but still wanting to throw things around. She rarely had tantrums or got angry. But it felt logical to her to be this upset, to point her toward her parents.

“All I wanted to do was just help in the case, was that such a crime?” She asked herself, taking the pillow and shoving her face into it. “If I hadn’t shown him that show, then he says it's a dead end.” Dally tossed the pillow back onto the bed.

The pre-teen heard the voices of Helena and Sherlock, she stood and moved to the door. She cracked the door hearing them talking down below.

“-No, Lestrade.” Sherlock’s voice was heard. “I don’t  _ think  _ you should question thirty-four women, I  _ expect  _ you to question thirty-four women.”

To her surprise another voice responded, that wasn’t her mother. “Thirty-four women, that’s a large span of suspects.” It was John, when had he arrived?

“It’s the only lead we have.” He argued.

“Nothing you could find to those scrambled letters?” Another voice, female. Sounded like that Mary lady.

“Sadly no,” Helena told, as she was walking around the flat and it paused. “I took a peek, Lestrade did, you may try if you wish.”

“I doubt I could figure it out.” Mary dismissed.

Dally would hear her father talk over the women, but Lestrade never responded, which meant he was on the phone with the inspector.

“So, where’s Dally?” Mary asked.

Helena sighed, “Up in her room. We had a fight- By the way, sorry for not answering your phone call.” she sounded stressed.

“No, we’re sorry we couldn’t keep track of her. She’s very sly for a small thing.” Mary told her.

“Well, she used to sneak out of the orphanage and pick locks, so I wouldn’t put it past her, able to get away from you and John in a crowd.” Helena said. “Just glad she’s home and safe.”

“Lestrade will be questioning as many women as he can, I give him about ten before he quits.” Sherlock said.

“So, we’re believing that it could be a woman he was snogging about with?” John asked. “That could be a possibility. But what about those letters you were going on about?”

Dally reached into her pocket, she had written down the letters and saw they didn't make much sense herself. L, S, T, E, R, U, E, W, T, R, T, W, P, E, what were they spelling out?

“Might have looked into those too much, possibly over thinking.” Sherlock admitted, the creaking of steps was heard, Dally leaned more out to hear better. “It’s the waiting game now.”

Dally slowly shut the door and leaned back against it, her eyes staring down at the paper. No, her father was giving up a possible clue? He would check the smallest detail of any case and he was now brushing off this one?

She shook her head, letting her hair fall into her face before she tucked it back. “These must spell out something.”

Dally moved to her bed and turned on the lamp, reached for the pen from her back pocket. She wrote down a name she saw within the letters.   
  
PETER   
  


L, S, U, W, T, R, T, W, E were the remaining letters. But when she wrote down many other words, it left one or two W’s out many times.

TURTLES   
LUSTER   
RESULT   
RULES   
STREW   
STRUT

UTTERS   
  
She might have gotten a clue with Peter Utters, but the victim’s name was Kenny. That and it still left the W’s out of it.

Dally went on about this until she found herself with a dead pen, unable to let out any more ink to write more words. Her pad had grown thin, scattered papers of many words and scribbles. Dally was about to check the time when she heard steps creaking up toward her room. She scrambled about to collect the papers and shoved them into the side table drawer, tossing the dead pen in as well. She got onto the bed awaiting her mum or dad, when a knock softly rapped on the door.

“Dally?” It was Helena. “If you’re hungry, I made sandwiches. I got them in the kitchen, so help yourself when you’re hungry.”

She could feel her linger for a while before the creaks descended back down the stairs. The pre-teen sighed and got out the papers, spreading them onto the bed looking over the words. The name Peter kept sticking out to her, it had to mean something for that to be the only name in the puzzle. 

“Why check the women?” She asked herself, thumbing her lower lip. “Why not check for anyone named Peter?”

Dally decided she had to get more evidence. Waiting a few moments, she slowly opened her door and creaked down the stairs when she heard no voices. The lights were dark indicating Helena might’ve gone to bed. But where was her father?

When she got to the final step, the main room was engulfed in darkness as was the kitchen. Was her dad gone or had he decided to sleep as well? Dally tip towed to the main room and opened Sherlock’s laptop. Thankfully he never used a code so it opened right onto the desktop. She clicked onto his web history and found the pages of Facebook. She started searching his friends for anyone named Peter and it shockingly came up with twelve results.   
  
Dally sighed, “How many friends did this guy have?” she muttered.

With her current pen dead, she started to search the desk for a new one to write down the names. She moved papers carefully, pinching the edges and lifting them a few inches to peek under, no pen so she laid them back down. She released a sigh, Dally would have to check the drawers. Dead at night everything sounded louder. Her fingers curled around the handle of the drawer and opened it as slowly as she could to avoid the scrap and squeak of the wood. She opened a crack and slithered her fingers in to feel for a pen. When she felt a few things in there that clicked or a clonked about, then felt a pen and clicked it to affirm it. Dally slipped her hand back out and shut the draw, but froze when it made that damned loud noise as if a goose had honked into the room.

Waiting a few seconds for any movement or voices, she heard nothing from the bedroom and exhaled. Dally checked the pen, seeing blue ink come out and started listing down the Peters’ in the friend’s list. She had gotten to about the tenth Peter when a click was heard and saw a light peeking down the hall from her parents’ bedroom as the door opened. As quietly and quickly as she could, Dally shut the laptop lid and ducked behind her father’s chair hoping they wouldn’t be coming into the room.

Helena had come into the kitchen getting a glass of water. She held pills in her hand and dressed in her sleep wear of black sweatpants and gray shirt. Helena had no trouble finding a glass and the sink to take her medicine. She glanced at the plate of sandwiches seeing it was untouched, indicating Dally hadn’t eaten any yet. Helena gulped down the remaining water and placed it into the sink, moving toward the steps to Dally’s room. Said pre-teen tensed as she watched her mum take a step.

“Helena?” Her father had called, Dally was surprised he was in there and not out here working on the case out gone somewhere.

The call made Helena pause and turn. “Yes?”

“Fetch my laptop?” He asked, seeming unable to get it himself. “It’s on the table in the other room.”

Dally cursed to herself, Helena shrugged and walked into the room. She moved perfectly fine, the room memorized to heart walking toward the table. Dally crawled across the floor like a silent cat toward John’s old couch and hid behind it. Helena’s hands skimmed over the table, feeling the laptop and picked it up. As she left, Dally moved around the chair to stay out of her sight best she could. Thankfully she never turned the lamp on, but even then Helena’s dying sight couldn’t spot Dally hiding about.

Her mum left the main room and back into the bedroom, lingering in the doorway. “Maybe we should talk to Dally?” She asked. “I.. I just don’t want us all to go to bed cross.”

Dally got to her feet, tip toeing to the wall and peering around the corner. She saw the shadow of Sherlock against the wall past Helena.

“You said so yourself, it’s all hormones.” He dismissed.

Dally rolled her eyes, is that what they were blaming this all on?

“But talking it out could help, she does after all want to help you in your case. Would it be so bad to bring her with you?” Helena stepped into the room and closed the door. The flat engulfed into blackness as the light shined under the door.

Wait, her mum was encouraging her to go with Sherlock? He brain scrambled to get back to bed, but she was too curious. Dally moved into the kitchen, then army crawled to the door. With very slow and careful movements, she pressed her ear to the gap beneath the door to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“The last concern I need is to watch Dally consistently during the case.” Sherlock said. “Do you remember the danger you got yourself in during my cases?”

A soft laugh came from Helena. “Yes, I do. But how could I forget the first case where  _ you _ got  _ me  _ arrested?”

Dally remembered that case, The Blind Banker. It was how they first really met.

A sharp exhale was heard, “Not intentionally, and I did get you out and proved your innocence.” Sherlock told her.

Some movement was heard. “From then on I joined in your cases, and yes, I did get hurt or endangered. Dally’s smarter, I put myself in those situations.”

“That’s what worries me, Dally is no different.” He argued. “She already ran off on her own to try and work the case on her own.”

“Then allow her to help, Sherlock. She won’t go off on her own if you don’t let her in.” She urged back. “...Do you really want to push her away? Again?”

A sharp stab feeling hit Dally’s chest, making her reach up to subconsciously rub it away. Things were still not perfect in the family. Dally was willing to accept Sherlock back in, but he still felt distant to her even with him standing on the other side of this door.

“No, I don’t.” He spoke up softly. There was a tense ten second silence before movements came about again. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow morning, Lestrade should have collected women he fornicated with to question even deeper.”

Dally felt the blood rush to her head, a grin was plastered as she got to her feet and patted toward the stairs. Her stomach growled, demanding food that she hadn’t had since that afternoon. She stepped into the kitchen and took two sandwiches before putting the rest in the fridge and heading to her room upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made this one extra long to have a proper chapter ending. Started my OFFICIAL FINAL semester of college, graduating FOR SURE in MAY!! I’ll only be doing a 7 week class, so I’ll be done in March. REALLY hoping and praying the vaccines and 36% drop in cases for the US means I can have a graduation in May. I never had a graduation before so this is important to me.
> 
> Thanks and stay safe all!!


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